The Insufferable Severus Snape
by TheCrystalMaiden
Summary: Eevee has been abducted to Hogwarts under questionable situations. Now she finds herself in a crossfire for her heart, but who will she choose - the rough and ready Sirius Black, or the darkly tantalizing Severus Snape?
1. The Owl

***** Chapter One: The Owl *****  
  
The letter arrived in my hotel room that morning while I was biting into a rather scrumptious piece of toast.  
At first I didn't really know what it was. I was leaning on the counter in my rather cramped kitchen area when there was a fluttering sound in the living room. For a second or two I ignored it, thinking that maybe the air conditioner had turned on - this London suite was outdated anyway, and for the past week I had been battling the machine to turn on when I wanted it to and turn off when I hit the switch. No such luck, however, and so for a few blissful moments I continued to munch on my toast.   
When the fluttering sound didn't go away, I couldn't help but frown. The air system did make a similar noise when it turned on, but it didn't stay like that all the time; if it did, then I would have gotten a new room. For a moment I refrained from investigating, trying to come up with a plausible reason as to why there was a fluttering sound coming from my living room, but when I couldn't I set down my coffee and strode out of the kitchen. Maybe it was a bat. Hadn't there been an article in the morning paper about bats found in one of the older hotel attics?  
God I hoped not, as far as I was concerned, the three worst animals were bats, spiders, and snakes. Ugh, I hated them. Concern knotting in my stomach, I looked around my small living room.  
And gasped.  
There, sitting on the coffee table, was a rather large spotted owl! I could have sworn they were endangered, but apparently this one was in good shape and seemed quite content to sit there on the wood furnishing and blink at me. I blinked back.  
"What in hell?" I muttered, then my eyes drifted to the open window. A chill breeze blew in, characteristic to England at the close of summer, and I couldn't remember opening it. However, if it was open, then I must have undone it sometime, and this confused owl had apparently flown into my room on accident.   
I narrowed my eyes at the owl. "If you don't mind," I said, talking to the owl as I would have addressed my own dog. "You are sitting on my coffee table, and I have a lot of sight seeing to do today. I'm afraid you can't stay."  
The owl blinked at me once again with its luminous yellow eyes, then gave a soft hoot. Then, much to my surprise, it awkwardly hopped off the table and soared back out the window, its wings barely clearing the frame.  
Weird.  
But hey, it was London, home of Jack the Ripper and several thousand ghost stories and haunted houses. Maybe owls flying into peoples' hotel rooms was so common it wasn't even remarked upon. I glanced at the newspaper spread out on the coffee table and smirked. Yeah, right.  
On the front page of the paper there was a large picture of a smoking building, and the headlines "Unknown Terrorists Strike Again!" Sure, maybe it wasn't the best time of the year to be taking a lone tour of Europe, but there really was nothing else to do. My parents had recently died in a car accident, leaving me with a fortune I hadn't even known existed, so now I was spending it and making my dreams come true. I hadn't been too close to my parents in the first place - they had sent me to boarding school just to get my out from under foot and I hadn't seen much of them while growing up. But some part of me grieved because I didn't have the heart to return home and live with what few memories I had.  
No, I had to get out, and what better way than to cross the Atlantic?  
My eyes wandered across the table and immediately I noticed something different. There was an off-white envelope sitting in a skewed position across the table - well now, that's a new development. Curiously I sat down on the stiff couch and picked the envelope up carefully, not recognizing it at all. It was heavy, made of some thick paper, almost like parchment. Well, this is England, I suppose some companies must still use the stuff.  
I turned the envelope and found it written in swirly, stylish green ink. The address, however, was what caught my attention - for one thing, there was no return address, for another, it read: Ms. Evelyn Jones, Briar Inn, Suite 05, Kitchen.  
Immediately I began to tug on a few of my red curls, wondering just what the hell was going on and why I was so amused by it. These advertising agencies, they were just getting more and more inventive! With a small smile playing across my lips, I wrapped my plaid flannel closer around me and slid my thumb beneath the ceil. Took out the letter.  
It was made out of the same heavy parchment and written in the same green ink, and I read it over with interest, still grinning in childish amusement.  
  
*  
  
Dear Ms. Jones,  
  
Your presence has been requested by Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In order to respond to this invitation, please come to the King's Cross Station and report at gate 9 3/4 no later than 11am; there will be a contact waiting to greet you. We hope to see you shortly.  
  
Enjoy your vacation, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress  
  
*  
  
Enjoy my vacation? What was this, some sort of joke? I reread the letter, trying to make a head and tail out of it, but there really was no sense in what it said. Hogwarts? Witchcraft and Wizardry? Platform 9 3/4? For a long moment I just stared at the strange envelope, trying to force it to explain itself by glaring at it, then my mind perked up. Quite suddenly a wide smile split across my face.   
Of course, how could I have been so stupid? This was obviously one of the notices that my new tour group sent out, and one of the maids had delivered it early this morning while I was still asleep. The group was probably planning on taking us to some ancient castle called "Hogwarts" where they would show us around, and the parchment and peculiar writing style was all part of the attraction. Maybe platform 9 3/4 was some kind of private train? That made perfect, logical sense, certainly more than some magic school asking me to stop by for a cup of tea.   
I had other plans for today, one of them a rather interesting art museum that had caught my eye, but this invitation was just too good to pass up. And anyway, I was on an extended vacation - God knew I had plenty of time to do what I wanted, and the means. Still wearing my smile, I slipped the parchment into my light jacket and made to get up from the couch.  
At that moment the phone on the side table rang, and I reached over and picked it up. For a moment I looked for the call button, not used to the old fashioned phone, then remembered that I just had to put it to my ear and speak. "Hello?"   
"Good morning, Ms. Jones. This is the front office calling to say that your cab has arrived to pick you up."  
"Oh, brilliant," I said, using the English term and loving it. "Tell the driver that I've changed my destination to the King's Cross Station, and. . . um. . . I'll be down in a sec."  
"Of course, Ms. Jones. Have a nice day."  
The polite, sexless voice disappeared as the line went dead. I hung up too, once again momentarily baffled by the lack of the call button. Then I glanced down at my watch and nearly had a heart attack. It was already a quarter 'til eleven! Where had all the time gone?   
In a sudden panic, I grabbed my small purse and rushed out the door, not bothering to lock it behind me. Hell, I could buy new clothes if someone broke in, I had far too much money than was natural anyway. The elevator (or "lift" as they called it) took too long getting open and I ended up skidding down the stairs instead - it was only one floor, anyway.   
I dashed through the rustic lobby, ignoring the hails of "Good morning, Ms. Jones!" From the staff, and to my relief the cab was ready and waiting right outside. There was even a nice, elderly gentleman holding the door for me.   
"Quick," I said as the door shut behind me. I still wasn't used to seeing white cab drivers - where I was from, all cabbies were Arabic. "I need to get to the station by eleven!"  
"You're in luck, miss," he said, pulling out into the traffic. "We're only a few minutes away."  
"Then we'll make it?" I asked, needing to hear the reassurance. I didn't think they would hold the train for me, despite my newly acquired money.   
"Yes, we'll make it," the cabbie laughed, and swung around the traffic like a drunk. I almost screeched, thinking that American driving stereotypes were unjustified. Five heartstopping minutes later, we were pulling up outside a bustling, red brick train station where the crowds were so thick I could only see the tops of the electric-powered machines. I paid the cabby, admittedly tipping him a bit much, but I didn't have time to get change. Almost tripping over the seat belt, I shot from the car and into the buzzing crowd.  
It was the end of summer, so the station was packed with people returning or leaving from vacations, but this didn't bother me. I had grown up in a big city, the nearest mall my usual hang out, so the masses of people didn't even cause me to bat an eye. Without hesitation, I dove into the group and waded through to where I assumed platform 9 and 10 would be. Between them should be the private platform, or at least something indicating to it.   
That's what common sense told me, at least, but when I found myself between the two platforms there was nothing else there. For a panicked moment I looked around, seeing nothing but strange faces in a strange place, without an idea in the world as to where I was supposed to be. The platform wasn't here, how could the platform not be here?  
An officer walked past me casually, obviously on the look out for pick pockets and the like, and I stepped up to him. "Excuse me," I caught his attention, and his pug faced turned to stare down at me.   
"Ah, an American," he said, as though that somehow made the situation amusing. "How may I help you?"  
"Um, I'm looking for a platform nine and three-quarters, but I don't see one. . . could you tell me where I could find it? It might be a private platform, and I've never been here before. . . ." I realized I was babbling, giving too much information, but when I was nervous words just tended to come out.   
The man raised his eyebrows and let out a laugh. "Nine and three-quarters? There's no such platform here, miss."  
I couldn't believe it. "Not even a private one?" I demanded.  
"The King's Cross doesn't support private platforms, sorry," he smiled apologetically. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to get back to work." And with that he strolled off, idly checking his pocket watch.   
Automatically I checked my own watch, and really felt my heart thump when I saw I only had five minutes before the train left. No platform 9 3/4? How could that be? Maybe I had mistaken.   
I waded to a safe place near one of the large brick pillars that separated platform nine and ten, then whipped out the invitation and opened it again. Read it through. No, it definitely said 9 3/4, and I was definitely at the right station. The sign above me said "King's Cross" on it just as it read on the paper.   
I sighed. Had it been a joke? I wouldn't be surprised, I'd heard that many people liked playing tricks on the rich - and since I was new in the business, I'd be easy prey. Still, I couldn't help but feel slightly disheartened, I had actually enjoyed the thought of there being a magic castle and a mystery train waiting to take me there.   
'Ah well, Eevee,' I said to myself. 'I suppose we might as well catch another cab and go check out that museum.' Truth to tell, it didn't sound even half as interesting now.   
I was just about to turn around when there was a sudden, unmistakable tingling at the base of my spine. I turned around in alarm, for whatever reason my eyes combing the crowd, and I felt the hair raise on my arms. The people around me still roiled and moved, but the sound seemed dimmed, muffled, what. . . ?  
Then I saw him. It was a man by the build, even though his figure was covered by a cloak. A cloak? Well, this was England, I suppose some people still wore them around here. . . then the man stopped apparently randomly and reached into his robes, then drew out-  
I opened my mouth to scream, just in case it was a gun, but no - it was just some silly stick. The man raised the stick into the air, waved it around a few times, then pointed it at the ground. By now I was watching more out of curiosity than caution, even though I seemed to be the only person who could see him. No one else was even glancing in his direction - someone even bumped into him and didn't give pause!  
I was just about to walk over there and ask him what the problem was when the tingling went through me once again, and a sudden tension flowed through the air. Then a deep voice yelled out words I had never heard before - perhaps they were Latin? - and there was a flash of light. . . .  
The blast was deafening, and to my stunned mind I didn't know what was happening. There was a whoosh of heat and wind, then I was sailing backwards, rammed into the brick pillar-  
No, through the brick pillar. . . . } 


	2. In the Arms of a Stranger

*****Chapter Two: In the Arms of a Stranger*****  
  
Yes, I fell through the wall, through it! And not because the brick had been demolished in the explosion - dear God, I've been caught in an explosion? - but because the wall wasn't really there!  
Either that or I had been knocked silly from the blast, which wasn't all that inconceivable at the moment. In fact, my mind was still so whirling in shock and surprise that I didn't even notice where I was, much less that I had fallen through the brick wall, until a good minute had passed. Then the ringing in my ears subsided and my thoughts came to a whirling stop - and the burning sensation in my arm became full blown.  
"She's coming out of it!" I heard a voice roar above me somewhere, and discovered that I was on my back. My arm was still burning - burning, sizzling, and aching like a son of a bitch. As my mind resurfaced from shock, my body immediately convulsed and curled up in a protective ball around the hurt limb.  
Or at least, tried to curl up. Once again I was in for a surprise - apparently I had been blasted through the wall and into the arms of some unlucky fellow. Dimly I became aware of a body behind mine, my head cradled against a rather solid chest, someone's leg beneath my back. After that first awareness, my hearing came flooding back to me along with a horrible pounding in my head.  
"Who is she?" I heard a voice say above me. "And what happened? Did you feel that tremor?"  
"Dumbledore's guest, if I'm not mistaken," a deep tenor rumbled from the chest behind my head. A hand reached into my jacket, brushing lightly against my breast as it grabbed the letter and took it out. "Yes, says so right here. . . well, she made it through just in time, didn't she?"  
"Focus, Sirius," the other voice said. "That rumble, it wasn't natural - somethings going on in the King's Cross."  
"Get some people on it, then. I have this little miss to look after. Go on, Remus, we'll be fine."  
There was a snort from somewhere above followed by a wry "I'm sure." Then footsteps clomping away.  
I opened my eyes woozily, still unsure that I was conscious and not having a clue as to what was going on. "Miss Jones?" That rich tenor asked again.  
Finally I made my eyes focus and discovered a tendril of curly red hair in my eyes. A rough, masculine hand that was definitely not my own brushed it aside, and I was left to look upon probably one of the most gorgeous faces I had ever seen.  
He was a man, definitely a man, and definitely an incredibly good looking man. Longish black hair swept around an angular face made of high cheek bones and a prominent chin - and my gaze was met by the most captivating pair of black eyes I had ever seen. At least, for a moment I thought they were black, then he moved his head slightly and I realized that they were really a deep, deep blue. A small, bemused smile tugged on his generous lips.  
I continued to stare at my fantasy, still dazed and entirely disbelieving. Of course I hadn't been caught in an explosion and sent through a brick wall that apparently hadn't been solid in the first place - no, I was simply dreaming, and this was a very good dream.  
"As much as I love looking at you," that wonderful tenor rumbled, "I think we should get you up before more people come over."  
I blinked. "Huh?"  
His smile widened, but he moved out from under me, still supporting me by my shoulders. "Here, let me help you-" he began to lift me to my feet.  
I let out a gasp of pain as my arm spasmed. The sharp agony brought me back to myself, and with a string of curses I shot unsteadily to my feet, clutching my arm to my chest. There didn't seem to be any blood, but then again I was too scared to look at it - maybe it was broken.  
The man put a steadying arm around me and began leading me away to some unknown destination, and it was then that I decided to look around. Sure enough I was on a train platform, just like the ones outside except the express that sat on the tracks was an older version, complete with smoke stack and coal cart. People dressed in funny robes and cloaks were scrambling in every which way, several rushing aboard the train while others loaded heavy trunks and bags into the cargo holds. Shrieks and hoots came from every direction, and as I stared with wide eyed wonder I saw cages filled with owls, rats, frogs, cats, and several other small creatures.  
"What the. . . where. . . ?" I muttered, unsure of what I was trying to say. This was all too confusing for me, where the hell was I?  
Then I saw the gold letters painted on the side of the train. "Hogwarts' Express?" I read aloud, and frowned. It didn't take a genious to figure out that I had finally reached platform 9 3/4.  
The man was leading me towards one of the rear cars, and I heard him chuckle softly. "It's leaving soon, we should hurry," he said in what I suppose he thought was a soothing voice. "Once we're on board we'll take a look at that arm."  
As though on cue, the offended limb let out an extra painful throb. I gritted my teeth. How could any of this be happening? I thought the officer had said there was no platform 9 3/4, I thought this had all been some sick joke! And the explosion?  
Of course! Why hadn't it occurred to me sooner? King's Cross had been attacked by those terrorists I had read about in the morning paper, and I had probably gotten a concussion and was hilucinating this whole thing. Yes, that was it - ha, obviously this was a dream. A group of kids in cloaks hurried past, one of them carrying quite a large owl in a cage, and I couldn't keep in the giggle that bubbled up my throat. My gorgeous guide gave me a worried look out of those mysterious blue eyes.  
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly as he handed me aboard the train at the last car.  
I muffled another giggle. "Fine, thanks," I said, feeling quite tipsy, then I barely cut off a groan as my arm complained. God, how could anything hurt so much? I had broken bones before, but this was a different kind of pain, somehow. . . fuller, deeper, on a different level.  
The car which we were in was empty, and I sat down in relief, having started to feel dizzy again. The red cushioned seats were surprisingly comfortable, and as I nestled backwards my savior came to sit next to me. I looked over at him with dreamy eyes and once again took in that wonderful face.  
"You're quite beautiful," I said on impulse. Usually I wouldn't have, usually I tended to avoid making moves on people, since I tended to have a commitment problem. But this was a dream, right? So I should be able to say and do as I want.  
He laughed at this, a nice laugh too. Very sexy. "Why thank you, but I doubt I'm as beautiful as you, Miss Jones."  
"Please, call me Evelyn," I muttered drunkenly. "Or better yet, Eevee - I like the name Eevee."  
"Then you must call me Sirius," Mr. Hot and Sexy responded. "Now if you don't mind, Eevee, I'd like to take a look at that arm."  
"Help yourself," I murmured with a smile, but that grin melted from my face as my arm hurt again. No, it burned. It was burning, God that hurt like all hell-  
"Ah!" I gasped as Sirius gently but forcefully took the limb. It was now protesting angrily, and it almost felt like the skin was. . . moving. Shifting. God it hurt. I could feel tears in my eyes as my savior carefully rolled up my sleeve and stretched out my arm.  
Paused.  
I closed my eyes for a moment, scared to look, but then I forced them open. I had to know - had to know - what was going on with my body. Even if it was a dream, it didn't seem to be working like one. Pain wasn't supposed to be in dreams, was it?  
And this was definitely pain.  
So I pried open my eyes wide and looked down determinedly - and gasped. What appeared to be black streaks were winding up my arm in a haphazard course, crisscrossing each other and splotching together. I had never seen anything like it. Apparently neither had Sirius.  
"Once we reach Hogwarts, we'll have Dumbledore look at this," he murmured, then those midnight eyes met mine. "Don't worry, we'll fix you up."  
I smiled at him through the pain and snatched my arm back when he let go. "Thanks," I managed. For a long moment I couldn't talk through the burning throb, then the pain receded as it had earlier and the tension slowly left my body. I breathed.  
In and out.  
Sirius was looking out a window, though he still sat disturbingly close to me. Now that the action of the past fifteen minutes had dispersed, I felt my body experiencing the final rush of energy before it would go back to normal. Sexual energy.  
I glanced at Sirius then quickly away, aware that there was a tall, deadly attractive man next to me, and that at the moment I could feel every movement in his body. His warmth seemed to burn through my clothing. Despite myself and my usually high morals, I really wanted to kiss him.  
It was just a dream, right?  
"Uh, Sirius?" I asked uncertainly, never having consciously kissed anyone in a dream before. Why did I feel so nervous?  
He turned to look at me, his chiseled features having adopted a slightly closed look. Obviously he had been thinking.  
"I-I, uh, well. . . ."  
Those eyes continued to bore into mine, making me feel flushed and excited, yet horribly nervous at the same time. My body was definitely making a comeback after its years of dormancy.  
"Hm?" He murmured, his own voice going strangely deep as he stared at me.  
"Oh hell," I said, and grabbed his head, turned it, and set my lips against his.  
This was more like it - talk about taking control of your dream. For a moment he was still in surprise as I kissed him, albeit clumsily, I wasn't that skilled. Then he shifted and his hand went behind my head, burying itself in my hair as he opened his mouth. Opened my mouth.  
Sensation.  
He was soft, warm, and wet. Scalding, really, but God the man could kiss! Not that I was any expert, but the dive and withdrawl of his tongue made my nerves hum, and my stomach clenched. My breath came short. It was amazing, sexual, wonderful, powerful. . . his tongue drove deeper, and suddenly I found myself partially on his lap, my legs over his and his chest pushing against mine. I was sweating, buzzing with the right kind of energy, my stomach knotted and the place between my legs throbbing softly.  
  
It was a kiss to remember, a kiss that I had never experienced the like of.  
So how could I dream of it?  
The thought shook me awake, brought me back to my senses, the subtle ache in my arm and the roughness of a body against mine. And the realization that this. Was. Not. A. Dream.  
I gasped, breaking away from the kiss and panting for breath, and I stared into those dark eyes. They were hooded now, burning with a passion I knew I could match if I wanted to, but at the moment I didn't. I was kissing a man I had just met fifteen minutes ago.  
God, I had turned into a slut!  
"This isn't a dream, is it?" I asked uncertainly, making it more of a statement. My voice was slightly breathless, to say the least.  
"No, it's not," he murmured back huskily, "though if you want it to be. . ." he made a dive for my mouth.  
I dodged, pulling back and falling off his lap when he released me. "Oh my God," I said in shock. "Oh my God, I just kissed you!"  
"I'm not complaining," he said, and licked his lips. He made a motion as though he was going to grab me, but I had already moved across the seats and settled at the wall opposite him.  
"Yeah, but I just met you!" I pointed out.  
"Once again, I'm not complaining."  
"Well, you should be, taking advantage of me like that when I was in that state."  
"Me taking advantage? Hey, you're the one that kissed me, remember?"  
I glared at him, my lips still tingling from his. I made to lick them in order to make the sensations go away, but realized what that would look like and stopped myself.  
"Well I thought it was a dream," I declared.  
"Obviously," he muttered, and ran a large hand through his black hair. I watched him do it, my body wishing to be all over him even as my mind held me in check, and it was then that I frowned.  
"Wait, so if this isn't a dream. . . oh my God," I repeated.  
"What does that mean, exactly?" Sirius asked. "You keep saying it."  
"Oh my God, I almost got blown up!" For a moment I almost panicked again. "Then that would mean that the station was real, and all those kids in the funny clothes. . . and the owls. . . oh my God, the owl!" It was all starting to come together now, starting to make some strange sense. "Then that would mean that I'm going to Hogwarts!"  
Sirius was staring at me, his expression openly saying that he believed I was mad. I stared back at him, not really seeing him. "Then who the hell is Albus Dumbledore?" I muttered.  
"You don't know Dumbledore?" Sirius said incredulously, then winced. "Well, I guess you wouldn't, being a Muggle and all. . . I still don't understand how the gate let you through, with you being nonmagical-"  
"Woah woah woah, what?" I demanded. "Muggle? Is that some strange English diss for American?" Believe me, I had heard a lot of them since my arrival in Europe.  
"I thought you were American from your accent," Sirius said. "What part of the states are you from?"  
"Mississippi, actually but I- wait, you didn't answer my question. What's a Muggle?"  
"A Muggle is a nonmagical person," came a new voice, and I looked up to see another man standing in the doorway. This one was almost as tall as Sirius and probably close to the same age, though he seemed older due to premature wrinkles and the slight impression of weariness in his expression. His eyes were a kindly, puppy dog brown color, and his hair light brown shot with gray - it was thick and feathered out slightly to hang around his ears.  
"Who are you?" I asked incredulously.  
"Remus Lupin," he introduced himself, and offered a large if blunt hand. I shook it, enjoying how warm and dry it seemed, and was relieved that at least now I had someone else to focus on other than Sirius and his drop-dead-gorgeous looks.  
"I'm Evelyn Jones, call me Eevee," I said easily, though inside my nerves were in termoil. Now that I had realized this wasn't a dream, I was having trouble grasping reality. Muggles - nonmagic people? A wall that disappeared? A man that pointed a stick at things and they blew up? It was all too bizar.  
And the owl this morning, it was all connected, and now I was on a train apparently headed to some magical school where I would meet Albus Dumbledore. Despite my earlier panic, I thought now I was taking this rather well - I could have stood up and started screaming and running around, and it wouldn't have been uncalled for as far as I was concerned.  
"Okay," I said slowly. "So I'm a Muggle, meaning I can't do magic. Then why. . . why am I here?" I still didn't want to think too closely on just "where" here was.  
Remus and Sirius shared a glance. "We're. . . ah. . . not sure," Sirius answered, and shifted uncomfortably. "Dumbledore told us to come get you and escort you back to the school, but that's about it."  
I blinked. "Oh," I murmured, then spent a great deal of time staring at the floor. Why hadn't the explosion just killed me and put me out of my misery? Now I had this whole new reality to deal with, with robes and sticks and owls and. . . and me kissing some guy!  
'Wait, maybe the blast sent me into another dimension,' I thought sporatically. 'I've read Stephan King, I can handle that, right?' Eyeing my two new companions, I sincerely hoped so.  
Suddenly the whole shock of the day hit me a second time, and this round it wrenched a yawn from me. My arm was beginning to ache worse. I had a funny feeling it would break into another attack soon, and despite myself, my energy was drained. I looked at the two men, who had been staring at me curiously, and shifted.  
"I think I'm going to. . . uh. . . take a nap," I mumbled. Immediately Remus leapt up and took down a pillow and blankets from one of the overhead apartments. I watched in surprise as he handed them to me, gave me a warm smile, then turned away abruptly.  
"Sirius, old friend," he said, "I think it's time we find that god- son of yours and see just what he's up to."  
Sirius jumped from his seat, obviously only too anxious to get away from me. "Brilliant idea," he agreed, and took the time to nod to me before he dodged out the door. "Sweet dreams."  
The door shut behind them.  
I sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rumble of tracks and sway of the cart, then carefully laid down on my makeshift bed. After all the action, all I really wanted to do was sleep, and maybe I would wake up in my hotel room.  
Fat chance, something inside me whispered, but I had already closed my eyes. The gentle sway of the cart lulled me into light slumber. 


	3. Charmed, I'm Sure

*****Chapter 3: Charmed, I'm Sure*****  
  
"Eevee, Eevee, wake up!"  
Someone shook me gently by the shoulder, and for a few blissful moments I pretended to be asleep before moaning and opening my eyes. What the hell was this? I hadn't ordered a wake up call, and for God's sake maids weren't supposed to come up personally to wake you! I was going to have a serious talk with the manager, this was just ridiculous. . . .  
Then I opened my eyes, squinted for a moment in the dark, and realized that I was stiff because I was lying on a row of train seats.  
Shit.  
I looked up blearily and found Remus standing over me, a coaxing smile on his face and his body swathed in formally black robes. For a moment I indulged in that sunny smile - I hadn't been met like that upon waking for a long time, and it was as good as the dawn. Then my mind forced me to remember where I was, and I grimaced.  
"Tell me I'm dreaming," I mumbled again, though now that I had fallen asleep and woken in the same place, there was no doubt that this was real.  
"I wish I could," he answered sympathetically, and left it at that. "Up you get, Eevee, we need to hurry to arrive before the students."  
"The. . . oh, okay," I decided not to question anything for the moment and stood up. After straightening my rumpled clothes and pushing back my hair (the good thing about my hair was that you never had to brush it) I followed Remus out of the cabin and outside.  
My shoes crunched on the gravel, but the sound was lost in the whirl of children around me. If it had been daylight - or any other time than now, actually - I probably would have been the center of attention since all the little munchkins were now dressed in silly black robes. As it was, my own "outlandish" outfit went unnoticed. The smaller ones were heading off in one direction where a giant shadow called out, "First years!" The rest were headed for a row of carriages that stood off to one side.  
"Ah, Remus?" I asked uncertain as the first of the carriages took off, apparently pulled by nothing at all. I had seen such stunts in Hollywood and up on the big screen, but never in real life. "We aren't taking one of those, are we?"  
"Sorry to break it to you Eevee, but we are," came a new voice from behind me, and I whirled to find Mr. Hot and Sexy standing there, looking down at me with a slight smirk on his face. "Just pretend they're one of your. . . uh. . . auto-fills."  
I frowned at him in confusion. "My what? Oh, you mean an automobile?"  
"Yeah, whatever."  
I couldn't help but grin - the guy really was gorgeous, even when he didn't have a clue what he was talking about (which was not a trait I valued in men.) "Just call them cars," I said.  
Sirius shrugged his broad shoulders and motioned for me to step aboard one of the horse-less carriages. "Hurry, the faster we get there, the better you'll be prepared."  
"Prepared?" I asked curiously at the foreboding in his voice. "For what?"  
"For whatever Dumbledore wants from you," Lupin said gently, then gave Sirius a disapproving look. "And you can stop scaring her now, Sirius."  
Sirius just snorted and closed the carriage door - I wondered what had happened to the nice, caring man who had caught me when I'd fallen through the wall. Obviously someone had shoved a stick up his ass.  
I squawked as the carriage began to move smoothly forward without warning. I was used to the sound of a motor rumbling into life, but this little box just suddenly moving - I realized I had reached out and grabbed Sirius' shoulder, and quickly let go of him as though he had bitten me. The memorable tingle returned to my lips for a moment, and I made sure to give Lupin a big grin just to take my mind off things.  
"So what do you do here at. . . eh. . . the school?"  
"Teaching," he said indulgently. "They recalled me for the job, actually, since they couldn't find any new teachers for the position."  
I swallowed, wondering if I dared to ask my next question. "And just what position is that?"  
"D.A.D.A, ah, Defense Against the Dark Arts," he offered in explanation.  
I stared at him. "Oh," I mumbled, suddenly envisioning a P.E. class from hell. "I suppose you wouldn't have any normal classes here, like English and Chemistry and stuff. . . ?"  
"Well, we have a history class. . ." Remus trailed off in thought.  
Sirius snorted from next to me. "I don't know about Chemistry, but we have Potions."  
I brightened slightly - at least that was semi-normal. "Potions? Who teaches that?"  
"Oh, you'll love him," Sirius said darkly. "He's just one of the slimiest gits I've ever met."  
I blinked at the man, realizing that obviously he was in a sour mood, and turned to Remus helplessly. Remus gave me another kind look - apparently the only kind of look he was capable of giving. Once again I wished I had gotten more looks like that in my youth.  
"Don't mind him," he murmured. "He got in a bit of a row with his godson, Harry, and is a bit pricked over it-"  
"I'd appreciate it if you'd mind your own business," Sirius said loudly.  
Remus winced slightly. "Anyway, the Potions Master is Snape. . . ah, Professor Severus Snape, I mean. And. . . well, truth to tell he isn't the most pleasant person."  
Another snort from Sirius.  
I whirled on the man, his attitude just rubbing me the wrong way. "Listen, do you have a sinus problem or something? I have tissues if you need them!"  
He stared at me in surprise, and I cut him off with a question before he could retort. "Just what are you doing here at the school, anyway? Are you a teacher?"  
Sirius grimaced at the idea and ran his hand through that beautiful black hair. "I'm here to keep an eye on Harry - and help Hagrid with his Care of Magical Creatures class."  
I just blinked. "Eh?"  
"Care of Magical Creatures, it's pretty self explanatory," he said moodily.  
"I think she means Hagrid, Sirius," Remus chided gently.  
"Oh," Sirius waved his hand distractedly. "He was the large one you saw taking the first years across the lake. . . quite a nice fellow, Hagrid."  
I remembered the lumbering shadow I had spotted just off the Hogwarts Express and barely suppressed a shudder. I was one of those people who did not believe in gentle giants - my father had been giant, but nowhere near gentle to my mother. I pushed the thoughts away. Those two were dead now and I was rich - oh, and I was just about to meet my doom in a magical school, but we already know that.  
The carriage came to a stop as unexpectedly as it had started, but this time I at least refrained from making any noise. The door opened on its own, and we all clambered out onto the front steps of the school. I could see the other carriages in the distance - obviously ours had taken some sort of short cut, though there was only one road I could make out.  
Sirius grabbed my arm, as though I needed help walking, and assisted me up the steps. I wrenched away from him when we made it to the door, but in truth it wasn't because my feminist pride was insulted - his very touch made my insides quiver with awareness. It was all too intense and nerve racking for my comfort.  
Lupin had entered into the lit room beyond, and I followed him, finding myself in a wide space with two halls splitting off on either side and several stair cases disappearing upwards into the walls. Warm light flooded over me, and before me there was a huge pair of double doors thrown open wide, obviously waiting for the coming students. Before the double doors there stood two of the strangest people I have ever seen.  
The first was a woman dressed in scarlet robes - if anything even more flamboyantly ridiculous than the robes I'd seen so far - and quite a tall red witch's hat. It figured that I assumed she was a witch on first sight. Great, I had just met my first witch - I bet the man next to her was a wizard.  
Well, he certainly did look the part, dressed in rich gold robes with an even pointier hat atop his head. He was a tall man, utterly ancient, with twinkling blue eyes and a long, long beard that reminded me of a skinny santa clause. He gazed at me over half-moon spectacles, then stepped forward and nodded his head friendlily. "Miss Evelyn Jones, I presume?"  
"Uh, yes," I said, walking forward awkwardly. Something told me this was the man who wanted to see me. "And you would be Mr. Dumbledore?"  
The man grimaced gently. "Ah, call me Albus, my dear, or just Dumbledore. 'Mister' is just so formal."  
"Alright. . . and you would be?" I addressed the witch, once again getting that sickening feeling of unreality. She nodded as Dumbledore had.  
  
"I am Minerva McGonagall," she confirmed my suspicions. "Please dear, call me Minerva - and welcome to Hogwarts."  
"Great," I smiled at them so hard my face hurt. "Now, ah, I don't mean to be rude, but just why am I here?"  
"That, my dear," Dumbledore said gently, "is a rather sticky situation, and will be taken care of shortly," the old man took my arm and began to lead me towards the room beyond the double doors. "However, I can hear the students approaching and insist that you join us for dinner first."  
"I. . . dinner?" At the word my stomach let out a groan, and I realized I hadn't eaten anything since my toast that morning. No wonder I was feeling so shitty.  
"Yes, my dear Eevee - you don't mind if I call you Eevee, do you?"  
I shook my head speechlessly.  
"Oh good, it's a delightful name," his eyes kept twinkling at me mischievously as he led me across the giant dining hall, and I couldn't help but wonder just what the man was plotting. "Eevee, we'll be eating in about fifteen minutes, so I'll have Minerva seat you at the head table, if you'll excuse me."  
The incredibly tall old man shuffled off to where his own seat was, and it was only then that I realized I had walked through the entire dining room without even looking at it. At this thought, my gaze was drawn to the four long rows of tables set up below me, on the far side the door I had come through. Various colored flags hung above each table, decorations everywhere, and I figured they were the flags for the different houses. I had been, after all, raised in a boarding school.  
At the back of the room, giant gold letters spelled out "Great Hall" and underneath, "Welcome Students!" My eyes rose from there to the ceiling and I stood in fish-mouthed shock, unable to believe my eyes. The ceiling was. . . well, there was no ceiling! It was the sky outside, exactly the same, even the stars and the clouds that drifted past.  
"Shocking, isn't it?" A squeaky voice said. "It reflects the sky outside - you'll get used to it."  
I looked down to find myself standing next the shortest man I have ever seen. He was also dressed up in puffy robes, these ones rich blue with black, and had a squat had on top of his white hair and pointy nose. "I'm Professor Flitwick," he introduced himself, and held out a tiny hand. "Please feel welcome."  
"Thanks, call me Eevee," I said with my inbred manners, and shook the hand carefully. Didn't want to break the poor dear, after all.  
"Ahem, Evelyn," came Minerva's cultured voice, and I turned to find the aging lady at my side. She motioned to a chair near the end of the table next to where Sirius was sitting. "I believe we shall place you here near your companions. Once the feast is over, I'll come and take you to the Headmaster's office."  
I nodded slowly and let her lead me over to the chair, still staring in wide-eyed amazement at the ceiling. Wow. Wish I had a ceiling that did that. Once when I was a kid I had glued glow-in-the-dark stars to my walls, but my parents hadn't been too crazy about it. After that summer they had sent me off to boarding school and basically cut all connection with me.  
Until, of course, I got a call from their lawyer saying they were dead, and that I had inherited close to thirty million dollars. Whew, even the memory of that day left me breathless with disbelief. I sat down next to Sirius and glanced around one more time. The shock of this place was the only thing that rivaled that original amazement.  
It seemed that only a few seconds after I was seated, there was a dull rumble of thunder, and for one absurd moment I thought it was an earthquake. Then the sound of millions of voices came flooding in the wake of a giant mob of children. For several surprising moments I was swept up by the force of energy and excitement that filled the hall, and the sheer numbers of kids blew my mind. I was twenty-four, a college dropout, and tended to keep children and everything related to children at arms length. Deep down I knew it had to do with my broken childhood, but let's not get psychological here.  
Now this rush of cheerfulness was bringing a reluctantly brilliant smile to my lips and lifting my mood like nothing I'd felt so far. How it was possible to be relaxed in such a position is a good question, yet somehow I managed it. The thousands of children eventually found seats along the long tables, still chattering merrily to one another, and it was only then that I had the presence of mind to look away from them. Sirius sighed next to me.  
"Ah, memories," I heard him murmur, and he gave me a small, wry grin when I looked at him.  
"You went to school here?" I asked, not knowing why I felt so surprised.  
"Yep, just about everyone you see at this table - and everyone you see in the street, no less - went to school here. Hogwarts is famous in the wizarding world."  
Great, and I was being held prisoner here until this "sticky situation" could be taken care of.  
I was about to dive back into self pity when a sudden hush from the hall caught my attention. I looked about curiously, wondering what could possibly cause more than a thousand snot-nosed brats to go silent, and discovered that Dumbledore had raised his hands for attention. You have to admit, the man had tact.  
"Let the Sorting begin," he declared.  
The what?  
I was about to ask Sirius when McGonagall appeared from a doorway below the staff table, a rather old, tattered looking hat in her hands. She set the hat down on a stool I hadn't noticed before and stood back expectantly. The entire room was craning its neck to get a better view of the hat, and so I did the same, caught up in the tension of the moment.  
Silence.  
I waited a moment more impatiently, then sat back with a sigh. This was ridiculous - likely enough I had stumbled across some cult and was now about to witness some religious sacrifice. Hopefully I wasn't going to be the victim.  
Then suddenly the hat seemed to split at one of its seams, and a rather loud, deep voice began reciting what appeared to be a poem. For a long moment I just stared at what I had thought was an inanimate object, trying to get past the shock that a hat was actually talking. I blinked several times, wondered again if I hadn't gone insane or been knocked unconscious and was dreaming, then decided that it was no use causing myself more emotional turmoil now. So I forced my mind to deal with it and listened to what this hat had to say.  
Or at least, tried to listen. The poem finished itself with a rather sentimental thought about everyone learning to work together, a moral Disney had ran into the ground long ago, and then it began naming off names and (what I assumed to be) houses. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the hat was sorting the new students into the various houses, and after a while I even got the houses down by name, and where each table was for each house. The Slytherins, quite a nasty looking lot, were to my far left. Next to them were the Ravenclaws, then came the Hufflepuffs, and finally Gryffindors all the way on the other side.  
The next thirty minutes were the most boring of my life. After figuring out the original puzzle as to what was going on, I found myself sitting back in my chair, my stomach growling fiercely and my butt sore from the hard seat. I crossed my arms over my chest, noticing the rest of the teachers still watching the students with rapt attention, waiting with baited breath as each one was named and placed. I for one had never gone to this school - hell, never even knew of this world before! - so the whole ordeal really meant diddly squat to me. Instead I examined the other teachers.  
To the left of me - the last two chairs at the table - were Remus and then Sirius, both ignoring me completely. Then at the opposite side of the table there was Professor Flitwick and a rather plump witch with graying hair dressed in soft green, then a starry eyed woman in scarfs and wearing what appeared to be a sheet. Next to her was a no-nonsense lady in a nurse's uniform, next to her the giant I had seen earlier (he looked even more gruesome and threatening from this angle), and finally next to him was Dumbledore, who seemed to be either asleep or meditating. Now we reached my side of the table, where there was an empty chair for McGonagall, and between me and her. . . .  
Was a man who for some reason caught my eye and held it. His face was turned away, looking down to the sorting taking place, but from this angle I got an impression of strong features and a slightly hooked nose that might have been broken at some time. His hair was black - almost blacker than Sirius's - and trailed to just beneath his jaw line with a greasy shine to it. Seeing as I'd lived out my later years in California, I had seen my share of stranger - and dirtier - hair styles. The clothes he wore seemed more normal to me for some reason, his black robes more like expensive dress clothes, though they seemed nowhere near as formal as the other teachers'. I got the feeling he just wore black a lot.  
Beneath the robes was a broad shouldered frame and what appeared to be a muscled body. I couldn't study it that close under the material, and for some reason suddenly found myself curious about it. I could have slapped myself. My God, Eevee, you kiss a stranger and suddenly you're thinking about sex with odd men. The sooner I get back to normal-ville, the better.  
And so I stared at him curiously until my funk was broken by the sound of applause. Immediately my attention turned back to the Sorting, and found that God was merciful and it was over. Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and noticed that Dumbledore had stood up - great God, he wasn't going to give a speech, was he? This was the worst torture possible, cruel and unusual punishment for being in a bad place at a bad time! I was ready to stand up and plead the eighth.  
But once again I was caught off guard. "Let's dig in!" The old man said clearly. I just about fainted with relief - until I noticed that there was no food on the table.  
As though on cue, there was a tiny explosion and dishes piled high with food stuffs blasted into existence before me. I almost fell out of my chair - I might have screamed, but couldn't be sure, I was so flustered. Didn't these people know about subtlety? Christ, I could've had a heart attack!  
Sirius had grabbed my arm to keep me from tumbling to the floor and was laughing, and I glared at him, but couldn't keep the expression up. I felt a sheepish smile growing on my face despite my best attempts at being insulted, and found that quite the same transformation was undergoing Remus. He gave me an apologetic look before his face split into a wide grin of amusement.  
I sat up straight and pushed back my hair, face flushed in embarrassment yet unable to keep the grin off my face. "Damn nerves," I muttered.  
Sirius only laughed harder. Why did that sound send tiny shock waves through me?  
"You may want to calm down a bit, Black," a deep, somehow soothing voice said from my other side. "Wouldn't want you to die of laughter, now would we?"  
The snide remark was enough to wipe the smile from Sirius's face - and I connected "Black" as being his last name. Sirius Black, quite a nice ring to it, really. Almost as colorful as Severus Snape.  
Severus Snape.  
I turned around and looked at the man I had studied before, this time getting a full view of his sneering face. Black eyes that burned like coals met my own briefly before focusing past my shoulder, and the greasy hair hung limp around his high cheekbones and strong chin. The skin was pale, almost pasty, but for some reason it only made his coloring seem more exotic. He had the kind of face that only a rare breed of women would find attractive - God help me, I was one of them.  
"Shut it, Snape," Sirius said over my shoulder, "though I'll be happy to shut it for you."  
The sneer across the man's features widened, stretched his sensual lips. I couldn't help but stare in fascination. "Well, I'm sure you would, but let's keep our manners before a lady, hm?"  
His eyes scolded mine for a second, then he turned back to his plate and began dishing himself food. I followed suite, biting my lip a little in thought, and a moment later Sirius leaned over to whisper to me, "Don't mind him, he's just a slimy git."  
Mind him? I thought he was totally fascinating! "So that's Snape?" I whispered back, all too aware of just how close Sirius's mouth was to mine.  
"Sadly enough."  
I let out a soft snort. "Beautiful," I flashed Black a quick and utterly tactless smile. For a breathless moment I was pleased to see his eyes darken, then I turned to my plate, finished ladling some mashed potatoes and pork chops, then dug in. So this was the infamous Severus Snape, I couldn't help but think.  
Charmed, I'm sure. 


	4. Curses and Conspiracies

Sry for the long wait everyone (I'm shocked I actually have fans, haha.) And I'm stunned that so many of you see Snape and Sirius as being in character. I'll try harder to disappoint ;)  
  
*****Chapter 4: Curses, Conspiracies, and All That Good Stuff*****  
  
Okay, so dinner finished rather quickly after the incident with Snape, and this time I was only mildly surprised when the leftovers disappeared from the table without a trace. Well, mildly surprised in comparison to when they had first arrived - I still felt my mouth open in shock when what seemed to be ten tons of turkey snapped into nonexistence before my eyes. The amount of food that had gone uneaten was probably enough to feed all of India for the next fifteen years.  
Then Dumbledore stood up for a second time the hall once again fell silent immediately, only I still wasn't that thrilled at the thought of listening to a speech. At the moment I felt so warm and fuzzy that I just wanted to snooze right into oblivion.  
Annoyingly enough, the man had a way of speaking that forced me to stay awake, so I sat there in a grumpy half-conscious state as he went over the usual school rules, dress code, out-of-bounds areas. . . oh, and the fact that there was some sort of "Dark Forest" where "painful death" met anyone who entered. Sounded suspiciously like J.R.R. Tolkien to me.  
The end of his speech was really the only part that concerned me in any way, and that was a quick, "By the way, many of you have noticed the three new assets to our staff table - Professor Lupin I hope you all remember, he will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Sirius Black has been recruited to help Hagrid with his Care of Magical Creatures, seeing as there will be some rather formidable beasts in this year's program. I am very aware of his history, and know that Mr. Black has my full confidence." There was a murmur of discontent that went through the houses, and I couldn't help but wonder just what History Dumbledore was referring to. I sneaked a peek at Sirius and found his face closed and his eyes dead.  
Very unnerving, to say the least - but he was still beautiful.  
"Oh, and this charming young lady is Ms. Evelyn Jones, I expect you all to treat her with hospitality, seeing as she will be staying with us for a while. Now, off with you all, to bed!"  
There was the general stir of bodies standing up, and I looked down the table, trying to catch Dumbledore's eye. Staying for a while? Wait, that wasn't part of the deal, was it? I thought this "sticky business" was supposed to be taken care of shortly!  
Finally he glanced in my direction, his eyes twinkling and a merry smile on his face. He gave me a little wave, then turned around and strode off at a rather energetic pace for such an old guy. I slumped in my chair, supposing that my death-and-destruction look had lost its effect. Damn.  
"Evelyn, dear, do come along now." I looked up and back to find McGonagall perched above me like some giant red bat, her fingers hooked on the top of the chair.  
"Uh, right," I muttered, and made to stand up from the table. I was halfway to my feet - wow was I full - when a blast of pain through my arm rocked my world. I was so shocked that my lugs seized, a small whimper came from the back of my throat, and I toppled over sideways, grasping for anything that would keep me from hitting the floor or the table.  
I grabbed something alright.  
Too bad it was Snape.  
My hand came in contact with his shoulder and I grabbed a fistful of robes, fighting valiantly for balance even as my arm felt like it was being split in two. The clothing was loose and ripped in my hand, and the next thing I knew I had my elbow on his inner thigh, one leg in the air, and my head against his rock solid abdomen. Oh yes, this boy definitely had some sort of a body beneath all the black.  
I suppose I would've been mortified if I'd been able to think through the pain, but as it was all I could do was close my eyes, grit my teeth, and pray. Oh, and grab a hefty amount of his pant leg and squeeze. Above me there were voices shouting, movement everywhere, hands touching my back and even one on my ass. I assumed that was Sirius, God bless him.  
The pain stopped almost as abruptly as it had started - one moment I was ready to throw up, the next I could suddenly breathe, and I felt as though nothing had happened at all. I froze in place, people still bustling around me and calling out to each other. I heard someone repeating over and over again "Get Madame Pomphrey!"  
I didn't know who this Pomphrey lady was, or what her exact use in the situation would be, but at the moment I wasn't in the mood to find out. I was woozy, nauseous, disoriented, sweaty, and in the most awkward position I had ever-  
Oh my God.  
Abruptly I was standing up straight, caught between the two chairs and trying in vain to get away from the man before me. Snape was looking at me with those black, solid eyes - his expression a grim line that was utterly unreadable. My face was just about the same shade as a cherry, and I turned to look at the worried and somewhat fearful faces - there seemed to be a lot more of them than I remembered. Sirius was at the fore of the crowd, his hand on my arm, a look on his face of mingled concern and. . . no, just concern, I think I was imagining anything else I saw there.  
"Out of the way, clear the way!" A bossy and commanding voice split up the crowd, or maybe it was the fact that the woman was shoving everyone out of the way. She burst out in front of me, her no-nonsense face flushed from her exertions, and her nurse's outfit screamingly familiar.  
"Alright, Ms. Jones," she said, "where does it hurt?"  
I stared at her, then gave her a nasty smile. "Actually, it doesn't anymore, thanks, but I'll be sure to tell you the next time I keel over in agony." I sighed, my mood not improving in any way. "Why don't you just get me to Dumbledore so we can get this business taken care of, I am getting rather sick of it!"  
I had been expecting to hurt her feelings, or at least offend her, but she just gave me a sympathetic look instead. "I understand, dear - you're in a new place and all of this must seem rather strange of you. Minerva? I believe you should escort her to the Headmaster immediately."  
"You're quite right, Poppy," McGonagall appeared, thank God, and continued to disperse the crowd. "Now now, professors, as you can see Ms. Jones is going to be quite all right. All of you should head off to your rooms; start of term is tomorrow, after all!"  
There was the general grumbling of agreements and "Good Nights," and the teachers moved off. On sudden impulse I turned to the chair where Snape was with half the mind to apologize, or at least make some sort of redeeming gesture. Apparently he had decided to head off already, though, because the seat was deserted and his presence wasn't in the hall.  
A hand grabbed mine, and I looked over to find Sirius still giving me that searching look. "You're sure you're okay?" He asked quietly.  
I nodded stiffly and gave him a tight smile - I just did not understand the man. One moment he was detached and unsociable, the next he was soothing my ruffled feathers. What in hell was I missing here?  
Thinking of ruffled feathers, my hand traveled to my hair and pushed it back. He mirrored the gesture with his free hand, and those black locks fell back into perfect place. "Listen," he grumbled. "If you need anything. . . just ask."  
I need to kiss you again - but of course, I wasn't going to say that. I nodded once more, solemnly this time, then McGonagall hurrumphed and claimed my attention. "This way, Evelyn," she said, and began to walk off. I slipped my hand from Sirius's, feeling peculiarly mushy and dramatic, then started after her. Apparently she enjoyed walking fast, and so the entire march out of the hall and down several corridors I was barely able to keep up without running. Christ, was everyone around here always in a rush? I had moved out of the big city because I couldn't keep pace.  
After traveling down what seemed to be a rather pointless maze of hallways, we arrived before a large and ridiculous appearing gargoyle. I stared at the statue for a moment, wondering why they would set such an ugly thing in the middle of a wall - it was a perfect waste of space as far as I was concerned.  
Then I watched in amazement as McGonagall stepped up to the gargoyle and said quite clearly, "Gumdrop."  
I had suspected the people around me were mad, but saying such a ridiculous thing to such a ridiculous statue was simply. . . well, you get the idea. I wasn't at all impressed. Actually I was looking for a way to subtly slip off - preferably to take Sirius up on that "help" offer and get the hell out of here - when the gargoyle gave out an alarming rumble. For a split second I thought the monstrosity was going to fall over on poor McGonagall and squish her into the carpet. Was it a completely appalling thought? No, to be frank. I'd be lying if I said I truly cared about what happened to anyone in this crazy place.  
But oh no, my mistake, the gargoyle didn't just fall over. No, that would be far too normal. It stood up, jumped to one side, and made a slight bow before showing us a rather plain and unassuming door behind it. I just stared. Blinked.  
Okay.  
Minerva walked up to the door and opened it, then turned back and looked at me. "You'd be much more becoming with your mouth closed, Evelyn," she snipped. "Now hop to it, the Headmaster is waiting."  
She made it sound so normal, a gargoyle hopping around and doors appearing out of walls. With a cocky shrug I walked over and through the door, then up a winding set of stairs. The bounce in my step was due more to my throbbing heart than actual confidence. By the time I left this place, I would have most likely lost about five years of my life due to shock and trauma. All of these surprises weren't doing my heart a favor - or my sanity, for that matter.  
At the top of the stairs we ran into another plain door, probably the most normal thing I had ever seen, and without hesitation I opened it as I would any other door. Stepped through. Okay, this wasn't so bad, at least now I knew a little bit of what was going on around me. For some reason feeling slightly calmer, I stepped into the room beyond.  
It was oval, on the small side, and the walls were crammed with portraits upon portraits of people who all seemed to be caught in a sleeping position. The way the light danced off of them from the low fire, it almost looked as though a few were breathing. I let out a breath - they're just paintings, Eevee, for God's sake calm down!  
Before me was a rather unassuming desk made out of a rich wood and sat on a thick carpet that cushioned my weary feet. Upon the desk and surrounding shelves, however, were all sorts of shiny, fascinating trinkets that I hesitated to look at too closely. There were so many whirligigs and thingamabobs that I didn't know which direction to look first, or if I even wanted to look in a direction.  
The door shut behind me, and I turned to find that McGonagall hadn't entered, but just shut me into the room. For a moment I grew uneasy - where was Dumbledore? Maybe this was some sort of intricate kidnapping plot and someone was going to ransom me off in order to get my money. Ransom me of to who, exactly? Frankly, I don't think anyone would care if I suddenly dropped off the face of the earth; which, to tell the truth, wasn't the most heartening thought. After a moment I gave myself a mental slap. Of course I wasn't about to be kidnapped, what kind of an idiot was I? And why the hell was my mind still trying to rationalize things?  
I shook my head at my own confusion and turned back to the desk.  
"Holy-!"  
Dumbledore sat there, a politely bemused smile on his face, his hands clasped before him. Those baby blues twinkled at me for a moment before he motioned to a rather overstuffed armchair in front of me. "Do have a seat, Eevee," he said kindly. "You look tired - I'll try not to keep you long."  
I eyed him, unsure whether I could trust and old man who just appeared out of nowhere, then I slowly walked around and settled myself into the chair. Took a deep breath to steady my nerves.  
My this was comfortable. I hadn't expected the seat to be quite this soft, the arm rests to fit my arms so nicely. My body was exhausted from the day, not to mention my mind, and at the moment I thought a nice snooze would be just the ticket.  
"Now, Eevee, to discuss why exactly you're here."  
My eyes snapped open, and I knew they would be a deep blue in the light of the fire. This was what I had come to hear - I needed to know just what Dumbledore wanted with me. Thank God I didn't have to socially beat around the bush.  
He had paused in silence, studying me, and I tried to be patient. Truly, I did. But at the moment I wanted to reach across the table, grab the old geezer by the neck of his spiffy robes, and demand some sort of explanation.  
But something about his expression stopped me, and I swallowed my pressuring questions with a slightly sickening gulp. Then I turned to study his shelves for lack of anything better to do, glancing over the doo- hickies and trinkets. . . and the dilapidated old bird that sat hunched over in a miserable heap.  
In shock I stared at the poor creature, looking at its dropping feathers that were falling to the floor in all manner of patterns. The skin beneath was gray and ill, the eyes dull and cloudy, even the beak seemed to have a sad droop to it. Immediately my heart went out to the creature. I was an animal fanatic, sad to say - I loved everything from mice to elephants, discluding spiders, bats, and snakes. This bird just seemed to need a friend, someone to care for it properly. I resisted the urge to shoot Dumbledore a murderous look.  
As though sensing my thoughts (I wouldn't have been surprised if I was muttering them under my breath), the bird looked up and blinked at me tiredly, then wobbled on its perch. With a sickly "urp," of greeting, it hopped awkwardly from its perch and half fluttered, half fell towards me. On instinct I reached out my hands, catching the beast at the last moment and pulling it into my lap. Unconsciously stroking the wrinkly head as it made little coo's of contentment.  
It was only then that I remembered Dumbledore's words and looked up at him, my eyes narrowed and demands in my throat. Once again they were stopped in surprise, for the old man was staring at me with those twinkling peepers, his face all soft and a warm smile on his face.  
"Well, my dear, looks like Fawkes has taken a liking to you!"  
I blinked at him. "Fawkes?"  
"Why yes, the bird in your lap. . . he's a Phoenix, you know."  
I looked down at the creature again - it just looked like some sort of tropical bird to me. . . albeit extremely old and tired and maybe malnourished. Funny, but I had always imagined a Phoenix as having beautiful red and gold plumage, being a lot larger, and somehow more. . . well, just more. Time to change the subject.  
"So why am I here, Dumbledore?" I shot at him, looking up and meeting his eyes again. "Why did you send me that letter, and why the hell does my arm keep hurting?"  
His face had darkened and saddened at my words. For the first time I felt fear touch me - not insecurity at not knowing where I was, not confusion or annoyance. No: real, gut tickling, heart pumping, nauseating fear. Something was really, really wrong.  
"Dumbledore?" I pressed, but my voice died halfway through.  
"Why you're here, Eevee. . . is quite a sticky business."  
"So you've said."  
He sighed this time, and his old, withered hands rubbed over his face. "Let's start at the beginning, then. Eevee, in this world, there are good wizards and bad wizards."  
I snorted softly, but waited for him to continue.  
"Now, about fifteen years ago, an incredibly evil wizard came into power. His name - which is not spoken now, mind you - was Lord Voldemort. . . and he had, ah, certain supporters."  
I nodded. It was like terrorism in the US, but based on a bunch of wizards and magical stuff. Gotcha. I frowned though in thought, a piece missing from the picture. "Wait, why was he so evil?" I murmured.  
Dumbledore had seemed to be waiting for this question. "Voldemort thought that only full blooded wizards should learn magic, not half bloods, not those who marry Muggles. . . and he thought Muggles themselves should be exterminated."  
Uh-oh. I was starting to see the whole picture now - this guy wasn't just a terrorist to the wizard world, he was a threat to us decent, normal people too. I have to admit I had grown interested in the tale.  
"So. . . what happened?" I couldn't help but ask.  
"Voldemort disappeared mysteriously roughly fifteen years ago after an encounter with Sirius's godson, Harry. Somehow Harry, a one year old baby at the time, managed to defeat the most powerful wizard the world has seen."  
I let out a snort of laughter, unable to help myself. And to think I had actually been building for a climax! The most powerful wizard in the world defeated by a mere infant? Ha, some wizard. I probably could've taken him.  
I was about to crack a joke about it when I caught Dumbledore's stern expression, and the laughter died in my throat. Apparently someone wasn't amused.  
"Voldemort killed thousands with a wave of his wand, Evelyn," the old man's voice was quiet and all too serious. "Harry's parents were killed, hundreds of friends of mine were taken out or joined with him, becoming his loyal Death Eaters. There's not a day that goes by that I thank whatever force gave us Harry, and let us defeat him."  
I felt like a guilty child. Embarrassed at my desensitized reaction, I scuffed my toes against the carpet and continued to pet the "Phoenix" in my arms. The room was silent again, and for a moment I thought Dumbledore might actually be mad at me, then I glanced up at him and found him standing up and playing with one of the oddments on his shelves. I almost fell out of my chair in shock, and gave a jolt that made poor Fawkes squawk indignantly.  
I winced as my arm tingled. "So. . . what does all of this have to do with me, exactly?"  
Dumbledore turned to look at me, still holding an strangely shaped metal object. "You parents, Eevee. . ." he said slowly, as though he had been rehearsing this for a long time. "Are wizarding folk. Or were, actually."  
Boom.  
It hit me like a bolt of thunder. A cliched phrase, perhaps, but holy God in Heaven, my PARENTS were WHAT???  
"Wizards," Dumbledore supplied helpfully, and I hadn't realized I had spoken aloud. Or stood up, for that matter.  
"I think I misheard you," I said slowly, my mind spitting out the information like bad champagne. Then I let out a nervous laugh. "I could have sworn you just said my parents were wizards, which - haha! - would be impossible because that would make ME a wizard - or a witch, I guess - and obviously I'm NOT-"  
Dumbledore was watching me with a sickeningly sympathetic expression, and that - accompanied by Fawkes' complaints - made me shut up. I looked at him with suddenly wary eyes, my heart hammering, my head dangerously light. "I'm not a witch, am I?" My voice was hoarse.  
"No," he sighed, and I almost fainted right then and there out of relief. "You're not a witch, Eevee, and that's why your parents shunted you away. They were an old wizarding family, indescribably wealthy, and you - their only daughter - was nonmagical. So they got rid of you."  
I sat down, hard. Fawkes let out another alarmed caw, then settled down again almost immediately. I could feel my mouth opening, but strangely enough my voice wouldn't work. Finally I cleared my throat and tried to speak.  
"But. . . but. . ." was all that came out.  
"Your parents were supporters of Voldemort, Evelyn," Dumbledore's voice was soft and somehow soothing, an anchor in this crazy vortex that had become my life. "Their fortune was left to you - but promised to him if you were to die, and Evelyn. . . he is in great need of money."  
I gaped. So some magical mad man was after my wealth? I thought this kind of stuff only happened in America!  
"Wait," I said, the full situation making itself known. "He's trying to kill me?"  
Dumbledore looked at me hard, and nodded. I stared at him in shock, my mind turning around in dizzying circles and scrabbling for a sense of reality. Finally I came up with a plausible argument as to why none of this was true. "Then why didn't he come for me earlier? Why didn't he just try to kill me while I was alone and defenseless in the great US, huh? Why did he wait until I was here, in jolly old England, before you all decided to abduct me-?"  
"You were safe in the states, Eevee," Dumbledore said calmly. "At least for the time being, there you were unreachable, we had knowledge of your whereabouts, had tabs on you, so to speak-"  
"You SPIED on me???" I asked in horror, picturing someone taking photos of me as I took a shower, or walked around in my house naked, or did other such exposing things.  
"No, my dear, we looked out for your well being," he assured me.  
He could rationalize it all he wanted to, it was still spying. I folded my arms across my chest and sat back, unsure of why I was so upset by this. Hell, apparently they had been saving my life - as though I believed a word of what he was saying!  
But, sadly enough, I did.  
I don't know why, but some part of me was sure it was true and all made sense in some strange, fantasy story way.  
God help me.  
"So then I came here," stating what any idiot could've deduced. "Here where he lives, and right into his clutches. Wait-" I was having an epiphany. "-The explosion in the train station, that was. . . ?"  
Dumbledore nodded.  
"So it wasn't terrorists?"  
"His people are the terrorists, Eevee, slowly killing off important wizards and making it look like Muggle bombing."  
I sat there in silence, struggling with this, feeling as though I was trying to swallow a watermelon. Why was it so hard to just accept what he was telling me and go from there? Oh yeah, common sense.  
Screw common sense, I just saw a gargoyle jump around fifteen minutes ago, and before that I fell through a wall that wasn't a wall! Common sense and all its relatives, such as sanity, reasoning, and the laws of nature, did not belong in this world. Hell, I didn't even belong in this world!  
"So I'm not a wizard," I muttered, "but my parents were, and now there's some evil guy trying to kill me 'cause I'm rich. I suppose life is just peachy, isn't it?"  
Dumbledore's face stretched into what might have been a smile, and he straightened his spectacles studiously. "You're not a witch, Eevee, but we have reason to believe that-"  
"SQUAWK!!!" FOOM!!!  
"Oh my fucking God!!!"  
The bird, which had been snoring peacefully in my lap, suddenly let out a horrible shriek and burst into flames.  
I don't know what I said after that exactly, some nagging suspicion kept me thinking that it wasn't very polite, and the next thing I knew I was running around the room like an idiot with my shirt and pants on fire.  
"Oh dear," I heard Dumbledore murmur. Then he whipped out his wand and did a neat little wave before declaring something in Latin.  
I continue my acrobatics, even though now the fire was gone. "Oh my God, oh my God!" I screamed. "I hate this place, I hate you people, and I hate that stupid bird! What the hell is the problem? Haven't you ever heard of canaries or parrots or something - what the hell are you doing with a goddamned Phoenix in your office! And why in hell did it just explode on me?!"  
I continued to rant my frustrations - why the devil did this have to happen to me? I hated everything around me; I wanted my old life back, where there were rules and guidelines and, well, common sense! I was pretty close to just collapsing on the floor in a heap of tears when the sound of the door opening stopped me in mid leap. I caught my balance on the edge of the chair, winced when I heard my cuss words still ringing around the walls, and turned with Dumbledore to see who had interrupted this little party.  
Oh Lord.  
It was Snape.  
"You sent for me, Headmaster?" He said in silky tones, his face blank with the slight shadow of a smirk around his lips.  
I went stock still and tried not to stare at him. Suddenly quite flustered that I had been acting in such a way, I turned back to Dumbledore's desk and looked pointedly downward at the chair I had formerly occupied. Stared. Quite a younger, smaller version of Fawkes was looking back up at me with wide, curious eyes - there was a tiny pile of ashes upon his head which reminded me strangely of a dunce cap.  
"Why yes, Severus, do come in," Dumbledore beckoned to him, and the door shut with a neat little click. I resisted the urge to look, but felt the skin prickle up on my right side as he stood next to me. The office was so small that there was barely enough room for me standing up behind my chair, so to say the least, we were in a wonderfully close proximity.  
Er, did I say wonderfully close? I mean aesthetically close. The man smelled great, I'm sorry, but it's the truth - something of a mix between old spice and pine trees. Oh, and a few fumes from what I assumed to be the potions lab, but it was still an amazing scent to my overly sensitized nose. Wow. I could get used to this.  
"I'd ask you to sit, Severus, but Fawkes had a bit of an accident on the chair," Dumbledore said conversationally, the twinkle of laughter in his eye.  
"So I heard," Snape said snidely. "But with much regret, I must decline any further chit chat and ask you what it is you need. I am in the middle of researching quite a challenging potion that I might just give my fifth years within a week."  
"Oh yes, so sorry Severus. Hm. I believe we have a bit of an issue with Ms. Jones's arm."  
"My what?" I said in surprise, then looked down at the limb that had pained me so much just a short time before. It seemed so innocent now - surely it hadn't hurt as bad as I remembered.  
"Indeed," Severus - I mean, Snape murmured. "And what do you wish me to do about it?"  
"She has been hit by a rather unusual curse cast by one of the Death Eaters - I'd love to assist, but I really have no clue as to what caused her to have such a reaction in the first place."  
I stared at the old man, my hand unconsciously going to my arm and feathering over it. "Y-y-you don't?" I asked uncertainly.  
"No, my dear," he said sadly. "Which is why I brought up Severus. He may be able to help cure you."  
"Ah, Headmaster. . . if I may suggest. . ." Snape murmured once again in his silky tones. "Wouldn't Madame Pomphrey be better suited to this task? She is, after all, the school nurse."  
"This, I'm sorry to say, Severus," Dumbledore stated clearly, "is quite out of Poppy's league. She specializes in broken bones, childish hexes, illness, poisons of the flesh. . . this, I believe, goes deeper than that."  
I was shocked, an emotion I was becoming quite accustomed to. "What do you mean, 'deeper than that'?" I said angrily, suddenly scared. "You mean you can't cure it? You don't even know what it is?"  
Dumbledore gave me another piteous look, and shook his head. I swallowed hard, the incident with Fawkes and all else now forgotten. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I have never seen a reaction to the curse as you have shown, and Severus does have. . . er, extensive knowledge of the Dark Lord's tricks and healing potions that may be effective. I will, of course, be doing all I can to find some way to cure your injury, but I don't know if I'm the most capable at the moment."  
We all stood in silence for a moment, my mind racing, my breathing fast and short. What if it was some sort of cancer? What if it was deadly, like a disease or something, and I wouldn't survive? What if, what if, what if! God, I was going to go insane if I didn't get some answers!  
This thought in mind, and an awful lot of built up temper, I whirled on Snape and thrust my arm at him. "Well?" I said bossily, admittedly acting the bitch. "Let's hop to it, what do you think? Have you ever seen anything like this before?"  
Snape gazed at me blankly for a moment, God only knew what kind of thoughts were moving past those dark eyes, then he wordlessly looked down at my arm. With startlingly elegant and graceful hands, he grabbed the sleeve of my plaid jacket and began rolling it up carefully. I got the feeling that he handled potion jars with the same amount of delicacy.  
Then my lower arm was exposed, and my mouth dropped open. Before it had been a few black lines, admittedly alarming, but crisscrossing close to my wrist. Now they appeared to have spread upwards by a good couple of inches and widened out, splotching the pale skin in sickening patterns. I stared at the limb, horror struck, unable to believe that this was my own arm I was staring at. Holy cow, hadn't this been the same limb that had been so clean this morning?  
Shit, it had only been a day? It felt like a goddamned year!  
"Hm," was Snape's response. "Interesting, Headmaster, but I have never seen the like of it before. I'm afraid I can't be of any help in this situation."  
My eyes rose to look at his politely blank features, and I knew my fear showed naked across my face. Fear at the thought that this curse, this black stuff that seemed to be spreading up my skin, might kill me. God, I might die.  
But I was rich, I couldn't die yet! I hadn't even begun to live!  
Snape's dark eyes met mine, solid, flat, emotionless. Something flickered in those depths, or at least I thought it did, but it died too quickly before I could be sure. Once again that shudder went through me at just how close he was standing, and I realized he had that graceful, long fingered hand on my wrist, the other supporting my elbow.  
I pulled my arm away, my heart suddenly pounding, fighting to keep the flush from my cheeks. God, the last thing I needed was some kind of attraction going on between me and the pariah of Hogwarts!  
Dumbledore was staring at me with a peculiar look on his face, and I stared back at him, each of us studying the other. Finally he turned thoughtfully to Snape and clasped his hands again. "Severus, I want you to work with Ms. Jones in the evenings after dinner for half an hour every night until you find a cure, or at least some information, about this peculiar curse."  
Snape winced slightly, and that dark, silky voice spoke again. "But Headmaster, the school year is starting tomorrow, I shall be most busy. . ."  
"Nonsense, Severus, too busy for a good deed? Why, that doesn't sound like you at all!"  
Truth to tell, I thought Snape would run screaming in the other direction if he happened to spot anything even remotely related to a "good deed."  
"Headmaster, if it was any other time, I'd be honored-"  
"Honored, huh?" I cut through the crap. "I suppose you're just too self centered to care about my life, or probably the life of everyone else, huh? No, I could see through you from the first, Professor," okay, now I was just improvising, but it sounded damn impressive. "I knew you were a loner, it's so obvious! Headmaster-" I turned to Dumbledore, "-I demand that you assign me someone else, this man is not competent!"  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled for a moment, then his face became deadly serious. "Professor Snape is the best we have, Eevee. I'm sure you'll find-"  
"That's a load of bull!" I snapped. "He doesn't want to help me because he knows he can't, and doesn't want to waste time giving it a try!"  
I glanced at Snape, and judging by his murderous expression, my tactics were working. It was survival instinct, pure and simple. Dumbledore thought the man could help me, and strangely enough I trusted the old geezer. So therefore I must trust his judgments, though I was having some serious doubts. I turned to face Snape full on and gave him back one of his sneers. "Too busy pushing away to help someone in need, eh Professor?"  
There was a deep, deadly silence in the room. I taunted that last line in front of his nose, dangling it like a carrot, and finally, FINALLY, I got a reaction out of him.  
"Ms. Jones," he said icily. "I don't know who you are or where you came from, but no one addresses me in such a fashion."  
I cocked an eyebrow. "My, cocky aren't we?" I murmured.  
Was that a pink tinge in his cheeks? If it was, it was sure to be caused by pure rage. Dammit, had I pushed too far? Maybe I should step back over the line before I ended up tripping myself. We kept the staring contest going for what seemed like hours, though it was probably only half a minute. Then he glared extra hard, turned to Dumbledore, and said while stiffly ignoring me, "Tomorrow evening I shall be busy, Headmaster, but in the evenings afterwards I should be free. If you will have someone show Ms. Jones the way to my dungeons, I'll be happy to assist her. Seeing as I am extremely busy, I shall bid you good night."  
"Good night, Severus," Dumbledore acknowledged with an idle wave. Snape nodded in return, turned smartly, and marched out the door. It snapped shut with a tension that was almost palpable.  
I turned to look at Dumbledore, and only then let out the monstrous yawn I had been holding back. The Headmaster smiled. "Well done, my girl, excellently played."  
I smiled a little in embarrassment. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Dumbledore," I murmured. "Snape is obviously the most stuck up, insensitive son of a bitch I have ever met."  
Dumbledore simply chuckled. "We'll see. The clock says its late, my dear girl, and there is school tomorrow. I'll have Minerva show you to your room and get you situated, then tomorrow morning if you'll report to the Great Hall, I'll give you a list of activities you may do to keep yourself occupied during your stay."  
I beamed at the old man. "Thank you," I managed through a yawn.  
"Minerva should be waiting outside, dear," he said gently.  
I nodded, then turned to leave. "Good night, Fawkes," I muttered as an afterthought, and got a chirp in reply. For a moment I glanced up at the portraits again only to pause. Several seemed to be sitting up now, wide awake with expression of interest on their faces. A few even seemed to be whispering to each other!  
Huh, I must be getting really tired - I could've sworn they had all been sleeping when I'd come in. Thinking that my mind was finally losing it, I stepped out of the office. 


	5. The Secret of Scrambled Eggs

Sry about the long wait for this one, my band camp has been pounding me into the ground lately.  
  
*****Chapter 5: The Secret of Scrambled Eggs*****  
  
Minerva was waiting for me, as promised. She had an expression on her face much like one who had just sucked on a lemon, and thinking of the conversation I had just had, I probably looked the same. Snape certainly was a lemon, alright.  
Why did that sound so suspicious?  
"Come along, Evelyn," McGonagall said in her clipped tones. "It's late and we all have classes tomorrow."  
"Uh-huh," I muttered, still thinking of Snape. So what if he wasn't the best working partner? So what if I hated his guts to kingdom come? I was rich for God's sake, I could put up with him. I concentrated on where McGonagall was leading me, set on getting to know my way around the castle so I wouldn't get lost, but sure enough about three minutes later I could have confused right with left. Who in their right mind would build a castle this big? A sickening thought suddenly hit me. Dear God, what if I had to use the bathroom during the night?  
"Here we are, dear," McGonagall murmured, and stopped in front of a rather large painting. I stared at the picture, noting what appeared to be a fat and rather ugly pirate sleeping at the wheel of a ship. What was it with the English and pictures of sleeping people? "Captain Klump? Er, Klump?" McGonagall said, and tapped the frame.  
Abruptly the pirate in the painting gave a start and a rather cliché peg leg swung around to face us. "Friend or foe! Arm yerselves, vermin!"  
I let out a rather embarrassing squeak and fell backwards, my rump hitting the carpet. Then I stared up at the painting in wide eyed shock as what I had assumed to be a still-life began hopping about and swiping at things with a giant saber. "I see ya, ya scurvy dog! On yer feet and face me like a man!"  
My God, was there no end to this? I felt like I was caught in a Disney movie - what next, talking mice? I felt my temper rise, I was tired of being shocked at every turn and almost having a heart attack every time I cared to look around.  
"Listen here, you stupid painting!" I barked before McGonagall could calm the captain. "I'm real, you're not, got it? So stop moving around, shut up, and do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing!"  
"Oh, so I see the missy has spirit, eh? Well, to the plank with ye!"  
  
"To the plank? How about I rip up your little painting and throw it to the sharks, huh? How about that? Oh, here's an idea, I'll light a match-"  
The pirate gasped in shock.  
"-And set your ugly ship and that horrible frame on fire! Now sit your ass back down and stop moving around!" I had seen movies before, I suppose a moving painting wasn't too different, but for some reason having an argument in the middle of the night with one wasn't quite the same.  
There was a momentary silence while me and the painting glared daggers at each other, then McGongall said soothingly, "Now, Klump, this is Eevee and she's going to be staying in your room."  
"His WHAT?" I demanded.  
"She's WHAT?" The picture screamed at the same time. "You can't mean that, McGonagall, I will not have some American brat living inside my compartments!"  
"French fries," McGongall said calmly. The pirate continued complaining and shouting as the portrait swung outward, and behind it I found another door in the wall. Another plain, normal door.  
Why had I been expecting something inlaid in gold and ancient runes?  
McGonagall opened the door for me and led me into a dark hallway. Through the hallway and past a coat rack, we arrived in a rather welcoming living room that was lit with a cozy fire. To one side of the room there was a door which let to a large bedroom and a giant bed, and a rather stylish bathroom was attached to that. I looked around in surprise, thinking that this was better than my hotel suite. Dumbledore certainly did have class.  
"Your things have already been delivered from your hotel room, I believe they're in your closet," McGonagall said. "Now if you don't mind, I'll be heading to my own bed, Ms. Jones."  
"Alright," I said, not really listening. I was too busy staring at the bouquet of flowers sitting inconspicuously on the table. I heard the door shut back down the hallway but wasn't paying attention - instead I walked over the bouquet and studied it for a moment, looking at the beautiful flowers and ribbons. Finally I spotted a card amidst the mess and snatched it. Who in their right mind was sending me flowers?  
"Dear Eevee," I muttered as I read. "Hope you're feeling better. Heard that you'll be staying awhile, please stop by the classrooms any time. Your friends, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."  
They had sent me flowers? What the hell was this? I looked at the offending plants for a moment, then couldn't help but smile slightly. One day in wonder land, and I had already made a couple of friends. Oh, and one enemy. That's more than I had managed in my entire life. Baby steps my ass, this was better than any self-help program - just send those imbeciles to Hogwarts and let them discover what it's like to come out of your shell.  
Now if only I could get Snape out of his shell.  
I brushed the thought away quickly - it was dangerous, silly, and far too appealing for my liking. After a moment I yawned again, and shuffled into the bedroom to throw myself on the fluffy bed. Even though I was still dressed, I fell asleep almost immediately.  
  
The next day I woke up in a strange bed in a strange room with broad streaks of sunlight slanting across my eyes. For a moment my mind had a relapse and I started to wonder where the devil I was - maybe I had gotten snookered the night before and come home to the wrong suite. God forbid. Then slowly memories began to drift back to me, whirling into my consciousness like visions from a nightmare.  
Holy crap.  
I sat up in bed, looked down at my rumpled clothing, then at the small bedroom around me. Crap, crap, crap! Now I had fallen asleep and woken twice since leaving the King's Cross Station, so obviously this was not a dream - welcome to your new and improved reality, Eevee. A moment passed where I looked around at the room: the tall grandfather clock, a standup mirror, roomy closet with what appeared to be my suit cases inside, and a cozy looking chair near the dratted window. In a sour mood - did I mention I wasn't a morning person? - I looked out the window and wondered how the hell there was sun shining when my room was in the middle of a castle.  
Okay, so maybe I didn't want to think too closely on that. Instead I turned to look around the room again, unsure of just what I should do, and finally settled on sitting uselessly and sulking. Man I could sure use some coffee.  
"You're a bit late for breakfast, dear."  
I whirled around, my heart hammering in my chest - it seemed to be a common state lately - but no one was there. The room was empty and still, just like it had been the last time I'd looked around, and now I set my head in my hands and groaned. "Great, just great," I muttered. "First I find out I'm trapped in some magic school, now I'm hearing voices."  
"Well," said The Voice. "I was just trying to be helpful. It's just a little past nine in the morning, dear, and you need to get up."  
I snorted. "So now my subconscious knows what time it is, hah! AND it wants me out of bed. Oh, the irony!"  
"Subconscious? No, deary, this is the mirror speaking."  
Despite myself, I looked up and stared at the inanimate object. Yet so far none of the objects I had met had been truly inanimate, had they? God, this was like my imagination on a drug trip.  
"You're talking to me?" I asked the mirror, trying not to wince at the fact that I was actually talking back to it.  
"Of course. Now hurry up and get dressed, early bird gets the worm!"  
"Early bird also dies from fatal collapses," I muttered, but swung myself out of the bed. My feet hit the soft carpet, and it was only then I noticed that somehow my shoes had been removed, even if the rest of my clothes were still intact. Or who knew, maybe I had removed them? At the moment my memory was trying to tell me I had to go to the Great Hall, but I was ignoring it determinedly.  
"Uh. . . dressed, right," I muttered, and hobbled over to where my suitcases were neatly stacked.  
"On the chair, dear," the mirror suggested helpfully, and I looked over to find a neat set of normal clothes along with a dark blue robe. By the looks of the robe, someone had owned it for several years and had been about to donate it to Good Will, or whatever the equivalent of that was in England. Somehow it had wound up in my room - big surprise there. I sighed. Now there was only one thing missing.  
"No shower?" I asked, unsure where to direct the question. The Voice seemed confused.  
"Shower, dear? You mean a bath? I can have one drawn up for you. . ."  
"No, no, don't bother-" hell, take a bath? I was American, dammit, I needed to do everything quickly and easily. Baths were not quick, and nowhere near as easy as just stepping into the shower. I'd sponge down later, say after I found out what the hell I was supposed to be doing on this lovely day.  
I dressed quickly, strangely self conscious before a talking mirror, and threw the ratty old robe over me. God, I felt like I was wearing a bathrobe, and it probably looked the same. Afraid to look in the mirror - or, to tell the truth, look AT the mirror - I dodged past and out into my living room.  
"Good morning," said the hatstand as I passed it on my way out the door.  
"Good morning!" I said back brightly, and kept walking.  
I yanked open the door forcefully, for some reason feeling as though I was suffocating from all the weird normality of the place - why was all of this starting to feel familiar? God, I couldn't actually be adapting, could I?  
The portrait swung open on the other side, and I stepped through, shutting the door and picture behind me. Captain Klump apparently had been waiting for me, and starting bombarding me with insults, many of which included "Ye slimy vermint, git outta bed an' swab the decks!" Or "A grimy wench ya be! Face me when I be talkin' to ya!"  
I had been looking around the wide, silent hall, feeling as though the castle had deserted itself and left me there alone. The deep green carpet beneath my feet seemed to lead endlessly in both directions, and the portraits on either side of me were idly moving about, reminding me much of several different TV screens. Finally I turned back to the captain and glared at him.  
"Shut your mouth before I pull out my cigarette lighter!"  
That shut him up.  
I walked down the hall just to get away from the blasted portrait, up to my eyeballs with impatience and a strange longing to be anywhere but here. I couldn't help but wonder how my life had taken such a strange turn - but apparently, it hadn't been so strange for my parents. Both of them, wizards? Thinking of my picture perfect mother and father, I couldn't imagine them being anything other than what they claimed to be: a banker and the head of the local women's club. But, if Dumbledore was to be believed, my life was as fake and structured as a movie star's. The thought was not a pleasant one.  
So my entire childhood my parents had hated me - fine, I could deal, I hadn't liked them either.  
But now I had Valde-what's-his-name on my ass, Mr. Bad Guy himself, and all because my stupid, good for nothing parents left me their money. Why did they feel I deserved the money, anyway? A bit of conscience peeking through and the last moment? They should have kept their good will to themselves, if these were the consequences!  
I had been deep in thought, therefore not watching where I was going because multitasking was not one of my strong points. I looked up, noticing most of the pictures on this wall of empty landscapes, but other than that there were no doors, no windows, no decorations of any kind. What exactly was the purpose of this hall? See, if the architect had just cut out all of these useless, good for nothing halls, then the place wouldn't be as nearly maze-like as it was now. But apparently no one around here had any common sense, so I wasn't about to offer any to whomever might be listening. More than likely just three little people known as me, myself, and I.  
I reached the end of the hall where there was a staircase and a dead end. For a moment I stood there, feeling like a rat who was trying to get to the cheese, then studied the staircase curiously. I'll admit, now was not the time or place to the usual "I wonder what would happen if-" but my mind was never one for convenience. 'Eevee, you're trying to find the Great Hall,' I told myself sternly. 'Breakfast, remember? You're already late, apparently classes have started since the school is so quiet - it would be best if you just head back the way you came and try to find someone who can help you.'  
That's what my personal Jiminy Cricket was saying, but my eyes continued to stare up the flight of steps. For God's sake, it was only a staircase - what could possibly be at the top?  
Probably another hallway, but just to make sure, I decided to head up anyway. Feeling awfully gung-ho and adventurous, I brushed my hair off my face and started up the steps, admiring the marble finish and the stone carvings in the banister.  
I should have expected something would happen. Halfway up the staircase, there was a rumbling sound, and for a moment I grabbed the arm hold in fear that there was an earthquake. How often did earthquakes happen here in good old England? I was a Cali-girl for crying out loud, why was I scared of a little rumble?  
But the little rumble turned into a big rumble, and with a horrible crunching sound, the entire staircase swung around until it was facing the opposite direction. I suppose I was surprised, but my mind was sort of swamped in an all-consuming numbness to the things around me; so I continued up the stairs, cheerily ignoring the fact that I now had no clue where I was going, not that I had had one in the first place.  
I stepped out onto the hall above me, the carpet having gone from green to red, and there were tall suites of armor everywhere. It was still eerily silent, and was getting on my nerves. Yeesh, even back in high school it hadn't been this quiet in the halls while class was in session. I suppose the English took education seriously.  
For some reason that struck me as funny.  
"Eevee?"  
"GAH!!" I exclaimed, and whirled around, almost falling over. "Don't do that! I am very. . . very jumpy in the morning without my coffee!"  
Desperate to see just who had said my name, I brushed my hair out of my eyes and glared down the hall. Blinked. Why, who else but Remus Lupin was striding before me, a big cheery smile on his face.  
I could have sworn I heard angels singing.  
"Remus!" I said delightedly, and walked forward to meet him halfway. Apparently this place wasn't all bad - at least I had finally found a familiar face. Hope was not lost, after all. "Am I glad to see you. Don't tell anyone, but I think I'm lost."  
He laughed, a wonderfully open sound, and clasped my hand in welcome. Then he reached into his pocket as though to draw a gun. The piece of paper he then handed me was nothing of the like, but whew, after being almost blown up by a stick - well, a girl has to be careful, you know.  
"I'd say you are," he laughed again. "Dumbledore said for me to give this to you at breakfast, but I guess no one thought you wouldn't be able to find the Great Hall."  
"Well. . . I sorta overslept," I muttered, and felt myself blush to the roots of my hair.  
Lupin just shrugged merrily and forced the paper at me again. I took the folded bit of parchment and started to undo it, and finally looked down to read what it said. Half of me was hoping it would be something like "Surprise! You have just been caught on tape by Scare Tactics! Please sign below for us to release this on the air."  
Instead I found myself staring at an impeccable list written in smart green ink. My eyes narrowed as I read it. "Herbology, Greenhouse 2 with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, 9:45 am? Potions, Dungeon with Slytherins and Gryffindor, 11:00 am? Care of Magical Creatures-" Realization dawned - this was a bloody class schedule!  
"Wait," I said, holding up a hand. "Just what is this?"  
"Just what it looks like," Professor Lupin assured me. "Dumbledore thought you might want to audit some classes in your spare time, you know, find out how things are run around here-"  
"Woah woah woah," I cut him off. "See how things are run here? Listen, Lupy, I'm sorry but I don't even want to BE here. As soon as we figure out what's wrong with my arm, I'm going to. . ." suddenly my voice died in my throat. My arm, of course! I had forgotten all about it for a few blissful minutes. Now I looked down at the offending limb, a frown on my face, my thoughts dark. What if. . . what if they couldn't find out what was wrong with it? What if they had to cut it off - or worse, what if it was killing me?  
Thinking of the pain I had experienced yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised. But that thought, one of my worst fears, was far too scary for me to consider right now.  
I glanced up at Remus and found him looking at me in sympathy. This bothered me for some reason though I wasn't really sure why. I shrugged it off and looked away, suddenly awkward and embarrassed, and it was only then that I realized I had crushed the paper in my hand. This was a nightmare, truly a nightmare.  
"Thanks for the flowers," I murmured, unable to think of anything else.  
He shifted behind me then put a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Dumbledore will fix everything, Eevee," he said quietly. "Have faith."  
Faith? I wanted to spit. Just what was faith when my whole world had been turned upside down? But I couldn't say that to him, he was just trying to help after all. Feisty I might be, bitchy I wasn't.  
"So where's the Great Hall?" I asked, stepping away to break the contact. "I'm starving."  
Remus chuckled. "I have a class to prepare for, but I suppose I could drop you off there, then come back to show you out to the greenhouses. You can ask one of the kids there about how to get to the dungeons."  
I hadn't been listening to the second half. We started walking, and I starting thinking though I knew I should have been paying attention to my surroundings. Even if Dumbledore did save my arm - which I wasn't going to think too closely about yet - I would still have Big Mean and Ugly on my tail, after this fortune that I really didn't need. I'd give him the money, dammit, if he'd just leave me alone! Okay, 60/40, I could live with 40% of 30 million dollars. That wasn't so hard. Maybe even 30%, but still. . . .  
I guess life wasn't that simple.  
There had to be some other hidden agenda here, something I was missing, but at the moment it wasn't coming clear. Why did Dumbledore specifically want me to audit classes instead of working in the library to find a cure for this wound? Or maybe going to London to keep up my appearance and not make people suspicious? Sure, that would make me vulnerable to What's His Name, but truthfully, maybe I could just sign my money over to someone else and not worry about it anymore.  
Sign it over to who, exactly? Who did I know? Who did I have as friends?  
No one.  
God it was pitiful - and I was sure Dumbledore wouldn't want the money. No, that would make things far too complicated for him. I got the feeling he was a very busy man even though he had seemed laid back the times I had met him. But there just had to be another way out, there had to be, I just wasn't thinking hard enough. . . For God's sake, I had found a way to cheat my way out of every test at school, I could find a way to cheat myself out of certain doom too!  
"Here we are, Eevee," Remus said, opened a familiar looking double door for me. Sure enough when I stepped in it was the Great Hall - though admittedly it was quite a bit larger now that it was empty. "I'll be back to get you in a quarter of an hour. Bye!"  
I stood there in the deserted room for a minute, looking around at the long empty tables, shuffling my feet awkwardly. Then I blinked, realizing why the room felt so strange to me. I was supposed to eat breakfast here - so where was all the food?  
"Wait, Remus!" I called, and whirled around. Damn him, he had disappeared. Without a thought I rushed out into the hall, certain not to move more than a yard or so from the door since it might disappear (you could never be too sure in such a place). Sure enough, the Professor was long gone.  
Damn him.  
I returned to the Great Hall, unsure of where else to go, and made my way to the staff table where I had sat last night. "Damn this place," I muttered, listening to my voice echo back at me. "Why can't they have a Denny's or McDonald's or something? Christ, why does everything have to be so complicated here?"  
And so I sat down in my place and sulked some more, lamenting my lost breakfast. I didn't know how much time passed, probably about a minute, but in the silence it seemed like an eternity. God, this was worse than my Economics class in high school.  
As I sat there in the silence my mind began to wander - as it was prone to do - and I began to wonder on the silence around me. Lupin wouldn't have just abandoned me here without food, he was probably the nicest guy I'd ever met, he would have let me eaten him before I starved! So what was the goddamned secret about getting a meal around here? With a sigh and a quick glance around just to make sure I was alone, I decided to experiment.  
"Hello?" I called, my voice echoing back to me. God, this was stupid. "Is anyone around?"  
Nothing.  
Okaaay. Thinking of how the food had appeared last night, I stared at the bare wooden table suspiciously and after a moment tapped it with my finger. "Bacon and eggs," I muttered.  
Nope, didn't work.  
I flushed, relieved that no one was around to see me make an ass out of myself, then snapped my fingers. "Hocus pocus!" I declared.  
Nada.  
"Food! Now!"  
Empty.  
"Open sesame!"  
Not working.  
"Abra kadabra! Alakazam! There's no place like home, there's. . . there's. . ." I could feel tears of frustration starting. My stomach was starting to ache painfully, and I was losing patience - dear God I hated this place, I didn't understand anything, just what the hell was going on? How hard was it to feed a body around here???  
"Dammit, I'm hungry!" I shouted, slamming my fists on the table.  
The explosion was abrupt and sent me shooting backwards, my chair falling over and spilling me across the carpet. I landed, my head spinning, my heart pounding, and the delightful smell of bacon teasing my nostrils. In shock I stared at the table.  
Check that - ten pounds of bacon.  
Oh, and about twenty pounds of eggs, an entire loaf of toast, a huge block of butter, jam, and what looked like beans. Beans? Okay, not going to ask. As soon as my ears stopped ringing, I'd be getting up and devouring the whole nine yards.  
Except then I realized it wasn't my ears ringing - it was laughter. Oh good Lord, tell me there hadn't been. . . . Aw, shit.  
I whirled around, still on my ass, and glared at whoever had been standing behind me. Truth to tell, if I had had a gun, it would be leveled - did I mention I had an overpowering sense of pride?  
And let me tell you, the sight I saw was not pretty.  
It was Sirius, dear Lord, Sirius caught me in the act! Why oh why did it have to be him? He was doubled over laughing, tears streaming down his handsome face, that gorgeous black hair falling around his shoulders. The boy could easily make the front of any magazine, even when his complexion was as red as it was now. My own face was deepening to the same shade.  
"Oh, shut up!" I muttered and climbed to my feet, turning back to my bacon and eggs. All thirty pounds of it. "Where did you come from, anyway?"  
"I arrived about a minute ago," his voice was rough between laughs, and surprisingly close. I turned again to find him walking towards me, his tall height intimidating in the most wonderful way. I couldn't keep the quirk of my lips - his laughter was almost as beautiful as his face.  
He kept walking towards me, smiling, and stopped a few inches away. I could feel shudders rise around me at his presence, pricks of sexual awareness that made my stomach flutter and my breathing speed up. I looked up into those midnight blue eyes, my own wide, and found the laughter gone from his face. There was a new expression there, one that darkened his eyes until they were almost black, drew his face into one intense line. There was fire here, fire that could burn me if I got to close.  
Wow, that was uncharacteristically poetic, what the hell had gotten into me? There was a hot guy inches away, one I had the hots for, and by the look on his face he was very interested. Right now.  
"Have you. . . ah. . . had breakfast yet?" I asked anxiously, my heart going at a mile per minute. I couldn't believe this was happening - God, if getting the attention of a man was as easy as kissing him, why hadn't I tried it before?  
"No," he murmured first, his voice so deep that I felt it in my core. "And I'm very. . . hungry."  
Suddenly I found myself backed against the table, my ass pinched between the edge and his very warm hips. Very warm, yes, oh that felt good. . . I could also feel a slight bulge that let me know just what kind of food he was talking about.  
For those of you who aren't good at double meanings - me. He wanted me.  
Why did that thought send shivers through my stomach and lower?  
His face lowered slowly, intimidating me to no end, then he abruptly took my lips with a force that left me shocked. I opened my mouth on instinct to say something, probably along the lines of "Woah Nelly!" But his tongue surged in and swept all thought away. We stood there like that, locked together, his arms on either side of me and bending me back over the table. In an attempt not to snap my spine, I put my hands down to support me and ended up smooshing one into a squishy plate of eggs.  
Ew.  
For a moment it brought me out of the spinning whirl of heat, then his mouth seized my tongue and trapped it inside his own, practically sucked it down his throat. Oh yes, that felt good, everything was wet and warm and aching, and I loved it, I loved this, I loved. . . .  
There was egg on my hand.  
For some reason the thought kept coming back to haunt me, destroying the moment over and over again before I got sucked back in. Literally. Suddenly I was sitting on the table, my hands flowing across his broad shoulders and wide chest, my legs astride him. He was pushing against me, gently grinding, one large hand on my inflamed breast. I could feel my nipple erect and rubbing torturously against the fabric of my shirt - a shirt I desperately didn't want to be there at the moment. His mouth left mine, my lips buzzing, and trailed down the side of my neck. It paused near the base to suck fiercely, making me gasp. I could hear moans. They were mine.  
I don't know about you, but at the moment I really wanted to fuck.  
"Ahem," someone cleared their voice politely.  
Sirius froze, and I did the same, my skin still flushed and pulsing. My eyes snapped open - dear Gods no, you have to be kidding me. Come on, this was a make out session for the Guinness Book of Records! What son of a bitch had decided to stick his nose in?  
Perve.  
I pushed Sirius away from me gently, deciding that one of us had to make a move or else we'd be locked together for the rest of the day. The thought wasn't a bad one. On shaky legs I stood up, still recovering from my sex drive, and turned to see just who had caught us in the act. Why did I feel like a guilty teenager?  
Sure enough, it was Remus. I wasn't really surprised - some small voice in the back of my head had been telling me he'd be returning soon. He was looking up at Sirius and me with a strange smile on his face, and I blushed so red I was probably the same shade as my hair.  
"I - uh," I muttered, and cleared my throat. "I was just having breakfast."  
"Ah," Remus murmured. "Enjoyable, I hope?"  
"Eh, yes, it was very good," I stammered, and suddenly felt Sirius's hand trail down my spine to land on my butt. If anything, I turned even more red.  
"Well, we should be hurrying if you're to make it to herbology on time," he continued to grin. "The bell rang three minutes ago - I waited outside, but wondered what was taking you so long. . . ."  
A bell rang? To hell with that, I didn't hear any bell! Then again, my ears had been pounding with blood, and I'd been deaf to anything but the wonderful noises Sirius had been drawing out of me. Abruptly my stomach dropped. What if a student had walked in on us?  
I didn't even want to think about that.  
I cleared my throat again. "Uh, yes, coming Remus!" And I stepped away from Sirius, firmly removing his hand from my ass and giving him a slight smile. His eyes were still dark with passion, and there was a slight smirk on his face. Arrogant bastard - he knew he was good.  
"Next time it'll be longer," he murmured.  
I blushed again, grabbed a few pieces of bacon and a slice of toast, then ran. At the door I joined Remus, not bothering to look back at Black, and tried not to think about his words. Did I want there to be a next time? My body certainly did, but in my mind. . . in my heart, if I believed in my heart. . . .  
Dammit, how did I know? 


	6. Temporary Author's Note

Hi everyone!

I know I haven't updated in forever, but it's not because of writer's block or sudden death. I simply HAVE NOT had ANY time to write. I'm completely swamped as far as school goes Ð I don't get home on Tuesdays or Thursdays until 9pm, and then I have about three hours of homework to do every night. Then I've been correcting a lot of my original fiction, I have 400 more reviews on my original stuff than I do on this stuff, so as you can see, it's actually going places. Not that I'm saying I don't care about you! Just that I have to choose one to work on at the moment since I have no time for anything more, and since my original stuff is more popular, I've decided to stick with that.

If you're absolutely desperate to read something I wrote, you can go to my site Ð www.thecrystalmaiden.com - and check out some of the stories there. Just to let you know, though, it's only original stuff. I have a fanfiction section, but at the moment my fanfiction isn't posted there, and this is my only fanfiction story anyway. 

I'm keeping the story up because I'm NOT discontinuing it, I simply don't know when I'll get enough time to write in it again. I have it all plotted outÉ if only I had timeÉ. *sigh.* 

Anyhoo, I love you all for your support and lack of flames (I suppose my warning really did scare the flamers off, hehe.) Don't give up on me, just please try to understand =(

-TheCrystalMaiden


	7. Misadventures Rose Bushes

Sry about this chapter taking so long, ya'll, but thanks for all the supportive reviews. Wow, it reached fifty, simply amazing! =) I love you all, I really do, I just have no life anymore, never mind time for writing this. *Sigh.* I truly have no idea when the next chapter will be coming, but I promise you it'll be good ;) Just a short recap for those of you who are too lazy to skim the last chapter - Eevee just finished a rather tasty interlude with Sirius over scrambled eggs, and is not experiencing her first Hogwarts class - Herbology!  
  
*****Chapter 6: Misadventures with Rose Bushes*****  
  
"Students, this is Ms. Evelyn Jones. She'll be watching our class today on orders of the Headmaster; I expect you all to be very polite and respectful."  
The greenhouses were, if I must say so myself, the most normal looking things I'd seen so far. Or at least, from the outside they were. Inside I was still discovering flowers that somehow glared at me and others that either hissed or snored - but at least approaching the buildings I'd been lulled into a false sense of security. Remus was long gone, having dodged off rather suspiciously after dumping me at the small door of Greenhouse 2 and waving a cheery goodbye. He hadn't stopped grinning at me since the incident with Black, which, to tell the truth, was more damned annoying than anything. I'd have to have a talk with the man - in fact, both men - and soon.  
As I was, looking around the inside of the small building, I realized this wasn't some ordinary greenhouse. No, this was a Home and Garden from Hell.  
Close to thirty curious, snot nosed brats stared up at me as though they'd never seen a woman before. My eyes searched over them, my mind wandering to the past ten minutes spent with a rather sexy pair of lips, then my gaze landed on a few boys at the back of the class. Their heads were stuck together and they were sniggering.  
Uh-oh.  
My eyes narrowed - I sensed danger. Two boys talking was one thing, two boys giggling was quite another, especially when they kept glancing in my direction. I glared at them. I was just starting to plot out a way to get back there and wallop them when the teacher, a "Mrs. Sprout" character, shouted something alarmingly loud.  
"Now that that business is taken care of, class-"  
I had turned to stare at the plump old lady as she began explaining something, pulling on a pair of gloves that looked strangely like alligator skin. Wasn't poaching those things illegal? Christ, didn't these people have any respect for nature??? 'Well, of course not, Eevee,' Jiminy Cricket chirped up inside my head. 'They're witches and wizards, for God's sake! They don't know what being "natural" is!'  
I almost sniggered.  
The woman proceeded in chattering away happily, beaming as she hefted a rather large looking flower pot into the air and shook it around dangerously. I stared at the poor plant, trying to figure just what it was, then finally figured it was some sort of radish. Great, the crazy old bat was going to teach us how to transplant radishes - why the hell was I here again?  
Then the woman grabbed the plant and viciously ripped it from the dirt.  
"Christ!" I screamed - almost as loud as the plant did. For it wasn't a bush, no no, it didn't have roots or a round bulbous body or anything. It was a baby! The mad woman had just pulled a fucking BABY out of the ground! And it was wailing with the most God awful noise I had ever heard!  
"Ms. Jones, Ms. Jones, are you quite alright?" Mrs. Sprout demanded, dropping the baby - dropping it! - to the ground where it rolled under one of the benches. I stared at the dirty naked thing in horror, suddenly quite regretful that I had eaten breakfast.  
"That's a baby," I said as she came up next to me and put a hand on my shoulder.  
"A mandrake, dear, just a young sproutling. . . really, nothing to get upset over!" The woman was patting my shoulder, getting my ratty old robe smeared with dirt. I turned to stare at her.  
"Mandrake?" I squeaked. "That. . . that THING. . . is a PLANT???"  
"Oh dear," Mrs. Sprout bit her lip in obvious distress. I was too shocked to notice - was there no end? Dear God, I had died and gone to Hell, or at least some sadistic version of Hell where an old lady was transplanting babies into radish pots. . . .  
"Maybe you'd best sit down, dear," Sprout continued, pushing me gently backwards. It was only then that I realized there was a whole bushel of children giggling and staring at me. I was past caring - hell, they didn't even seem to notice the baby rolling around beneath the table! "Yes, back here, away from all the trouble. . . I'm so sorry you had to see this, I simply forgot you were a Muggle. You seem to fit in here so well-"  
"What?" I demanded, snapped out of my reverie. "You think I FIT IN here?"  
"Well, I. . . I just - I mean, you're so. . ." the woman was flustered and growing red in the cheeks. Finally I sighed - I didn't like any of this, I was really starting to wonder on whether or not I should just take my chances with What's His Name and go home, but at the moment I was stuck here. Stuck in a school of witchcraft and wizardry.  
Alright, I could deal. I was American, it's what I did.  
With a sigh I pushed her away, trying to drown out the wailing of the poor child while ignoring the sniggers of the students. The worst part of school is the kids, as far as I'm concerned. Children were cruel and heartless, and that was that. Mrs. Sprout continued to gaze at me worriedly, her old wrinkled face reminding me perversely of a Mrs. Clause, but finally I climbed to my feet and she backed off. Good girl, go back to teaching your brats and leave me the fuck alone.  
Mrs. Sprout assumed that I was alright since I hadn't fainted on the floor thus far, so left me and went to calm the kids. I drifted away from the group past the various potted plants, wishing desperately that I was somewhere else; half of me was still watching hopefully for some flower I'd recognize.  
"Pssst!"  
The offending sound could have come from a gas tank, but no, it was just some kid ducking inadequately behind a large flower pot. I glanced his way, raised an eyebrow, then went about the business of assuming he was talking to someone else.  
"Pssst! Lady!"  
Seeing as I was the only one old enough around here to be called a "lady" - except Mrs. Sprout, but seeing as she was on the opposite side of the room, I doubt a child would be whispering to her - I turned to look at the boy.  
"What?" I asked, rather bluntly and at normal volume. The kid just about jumped out of his robes. I took this moment to study his appearance - he was twelve or thirteen, with pale smooth cheeks an sandy blond hair. There was a nervous twitch to his hands as he straightened his collar and blinked at me with watery blue eyes. I waited.  
"Uh. . . I-I dropped my quill in the bush here, and I can't slip my hand through the thorns to grab it. Since you have such long fingers, I. . . I thought maybe you could help."  
Bush? Thorns? For the first time I cared to notice the plant he was ducking behind, and found to my delight that it very closely resembled a rose bush. Hell - it WAS a rose bush, complete with budding red petals and small sharp thorns. Normally I would have told the kid he was out of luck and left - I was the kind of neighbor who kept the balls that fell in my yard - but something about the plant caught my attention. A sigh of resignation escaped my lips; well, I guess I had to do some good deed to get into Heaven.  
And so I approached the thick mass of dark leaves and thorns, peering through the twisting limbs. Finally I found myself down near the base of the pot right next to the youngster, and was staring at what appeared to be some sort of seagull feather laying in the rich brown soil. A small frown tugged across my lips - how did a thing so big fall between such tightly packed thorns?  
It's right there that I should have known better, but hey, I had been thrown into the middle of Never Never Land - of course I wasn't thinking straight! And so, idiot that I am, I reached my hand gently through the tangled branches and began to edge carefully, inch by inch, towards the dirt. The last thing I needed was to get pricked by a thorn - who knew what kind of new diseases I'd be exposed to in this land? The last thing I needed was a tiny cut turning into gangrene.  
"Almost there, kid," I muttered, and glanced at the child. There was a peculiar expression on his face, crossed somewhere between amusement and horror, and that look made me freeze in place immediately. My eyes narrowed. "Something wrong?"  
"Um. . . no," the boy muttered.  
"You have a 'something' face."  
If anything, the kid turned a bit green. Then he met my eyes, and when he did, I knew I was in trouble. "Listen, miss, I didn't mean it, honest!" he started. "But those boys told me to!"  
It took me a matter of seconds to figure out that by "those boys" he meant the giggling trio I had spotted upon first entering the green house. Personally, I was starting to feel a bit stupid and embarrassed - which of course would only lead to me being irritated and then angry.  
"You better not being saying what I think you're saying," I muttered.  
"Listen, miss, nothing will happen if you just pull your hand out-"  
SCREEEEEEE!!!!  
A fresh scream from one of the baby "mandrakes" broke my concentration, along with the rest of the boy's sentence. "Fucking A!" I yelled, and gave a start of surprise - wedging my hands against the thorns.  
The pricks of pain were at first normal, and with a gasp and a small yelp I tried to pull my hand out - except it wouldn't come. "What the fuck?" I demanded, my hair wild around my face and my breathing fast. The kid was next to me, eyes so wide I thought they'd pop out of his head. With a violent tug I tried to rip my hand from the bush, and it certainly did work. . . well, the ripping part anyway. The bush didn't let go, but now there was blood dripping everywhere and smeared across my arm.  
It was by this time that I was really starting to freak out. I thrashed again, and the plant closed tighter - was it just me, or were the thorns growing? All I knew was that it was starting to hurt like a son of a bitch. "Christ," I muttered, and in horror felt something suspiciously like a tear streak down my cheek. "Why can't I just fuckin' adapt???"  
I gave it one last tug before I grimaced in pain, cursed again, and shoved the boy out of the way. "Eh. . . Mrs. Sprout?" I called. I couldn't see her from around the huge bush, but I heard a hush go over the class. Oh, it was humiliating! "Listen, Mrs. Sprout, I seem to be. . . a b-bit stuck," the tremor in my voice was unexpected and not at all welcomed.  
"What's that Eevee dear?" The old lady called back. "I'll be back in a moment, class, just work on your sketches for now. . . oh my!" The plump, bustling lady appeared but stopped as soon as she saw me. Immediately I saw her begin to wring her dirty apron in her equally grubby hands, but the lack of hygiene no longer meant shit.  
"Oh my?" I squeaked. "OH MY??? That is NOT going to help me get out of this!"  
"Oh my oh my oh my," I heard her mutter quickly, and was not at all reassured. She had the same slightly panicked look that I'm sure was on my face. "Just - uh - just hold on, dear, I'll be right back!"  
"What? You can't leave me!" I shrieked.  
But that was exactly what she did.  
I was beginning to glimpse curious faces around the sides of the monstrous bush, and made sure to scowl at every one of them. There were a few sniggers; I swear to God, the moment I got out of this those three boys were gonna pay-!  
"I hope you've all made your peace," I muttered.  
I couldn't believe this, COULD NOT believe this. Here I was in the middle of a green house from Hell, my hand caught in a flesh eating rose bush, and the only person who even had a slight hope of getting me out had just ran away. Whatever happened to honor and chivalry and all that other good stuff you think of when you think of the English? Was this place even in England?  
There was a click as the door opened and shut, and a second later a rather pink Mrs. Sprout bustled up followed by a matriarch of a woman I immediately remembered. Why, if it wasn't the esteemed McGonagall! And oh, behind HER there was another teacher, one I dimly remembered as being called "Madame Pumpy." Or Pomphrey. Or something like that. Minerva looked me over with a grim expression.  
"Oh, of all the - you get into more mischief than the kids do!"  
I glared at her, unable to believe she was going to give me this crap. "Wait, can you hold on a second? I haven't quite lost enough blood to faint yet," I bit out sarcastically. "Oh, and while you're at it, feel free to call the rest of the class over. I'm sure this is very educational!"  
The woman dressed as a nurse behind McGonagall gave me a sympathetic look and opened her mouth to say something, but Minerva cut her off. She gave me a starchy look over her glasses. "You're not very funny, Ms. Jones," she barked. "Now listen to what I say, or we'll be forced to leave you here!"  
"Oh beautiful," I muttered.  
"Now, Mrs. Sprout is going to take this potion-" she withdrew a suspicious looking purple vial out of her sleeve and handed it to Sprout. "-And pour it over the plant. The bush will then be paralyzed; Mrs. Sprout is going to cut you loose, and Madame Pomphrey here will immediately give you a salve to put on your hand. You are then to follow her to the infirmary, do you understand?"  
"Yes, dear," I tried to drip the words, but the effect was ruined as the bush squeezed a bit tighter. Oh, the pain! "And just what are you here for - moral support?"  
"No, I'm here to make sure you don't do anything else stupid."  
I opened my mouth indignantly, about to exclaim "It wasn't my fault!" when Madame Pomphrey's voice cut me off.  
"Hurry, Sprout, it'll be too late soon!"  
This immediately caught my attention. "What?!" I demanded frantically.  
Mrs. Sprout stepped over next to the bush, uncorked the purple vial, then splashed the clear contents over the plant. I stared at it for a moment in shock under the impression that it was just water - what the hell was that supposed to do for me? - then something smelling vilely like rotten eggs hit my nose. Ugh. Whatever this magic stuff was, it was NOT to be used as perfume.  
The plant began to shudder almost immediately, almost like a person going into convulsions, then steam began to rise from the branches. After a good thirty seconds of this, the shaking slowly stopped and the leaves fell limp.  
"Okay, dear, move out of the way while I cut you loose," Sprout murmured.  
"Well, I'm a bit stuck," I offered. My frantic and bitchy mood was beginning to ebb away, being replaced by the sweet warmth of relief. I watched as Sprout reached into the bush and began cutting away the limbs with a pair of small, neat scissors. Wait a moment - scissors? Dear God, so normal things DID exist in this world! It was pathetic how happy this made me feel.  
Finally my hand was free, and Sprout assisted me in pulling it away from the plant. I glanced at the limb and grimaced - blood was smeared everywhere across the skin, and large thorns were wedged into the flesh like odd growths. There was even a portion of a vine still attached, which Mrs. Sprout clipped away quickly.  
A second later and Pomphrey took her place, dunking my hand in a bowl of Cool Whip. Or at least it looked like Cool Whip - it could have been anything and I wouldn't have cared, it just felt too damned good. The burning sting of the thorns began to numb over, and the knot of tension that was on my brow loosened.  
"Follow me, Ms. Jones," the nurse smiled, and gave me a tug towards the exit of the green house. I followed after, slightly dazed by the whole ordeal and once again wondering why my life had taken such an unexpected turn.  
"Call me Eevee," I murmured out of habit.  
On the way out of the building I realized the green house was empty of students, and figured someone must have sent them away. Thank God - the last thing I needed was admitting defeat to a plant in front of thirty-some twelve-year-olds. I tried not to step on Pomphery's long gray cloak as we exited onto the grounds.  
This was definitely the last time I stopped to smell the roses.  
  
******  
  
The nurse's wing was, well, white.  
And rather empty.  
Or at least the room I was in was empty - I felt like I had entered one of those old civil war hospitals where there was nothing but tile floors and cots. I was sitting on said cot, trying to find a comfortable position on material obviously designed to keep you awake. The lumpy pillow beneath my head was the only thing working for me at the moment, and even that smelled slightly funny - sorta like shampoo and dust.  
With a sigh I shifted again and winced when my hand let out a twitch of discomfort. It was still heavy and numb, the bandages around it stiff, but I could see the tips of my fingers and I thought they looked okay. Personally, I felt like I was in perfect health, and wanted nothing more than to slip into a warm bath and soak. Oh, and maybe eat a few tubs of chocolate ice cream. Did they even have ice cream around here? I frowned. Now that's a troubling thought.  
The sheer white boringness of the hospice was beginning to work its magic on me, and I felt my eyes drifting closer and closer to sleep. What was the use of being awake? My dreams were more normal than my reality around here anyway. Finally I convinced myself that sleep was the only escape, and darkness was just starting to cloud when-  
"You were letting him pet a WHAT???"  
My eyes snapped open with a jolt.  
"A chimera, Poppy, but really the beast was harmless. Neville here just didn't have his gloves on."  
My eyes widened in horror, and I listened to the heels tapping across the tiles, growing closer and closer from the hall outside the room. Dread filled my stomach. "Dear God, no," I whispered; I had to be mistaken, life wasn't this cruel-!  
The door opened. "You come with me, Neville, and I'll see to that bite. . . there there, my boy, don't cry - it'll all be alright."  
"See there, Neville? I told you Poppy would take care of everything- "  
The nurse's sweet old voice cut off the deep tenor. "And YOU, Mr. Black, stay right where you are! We're going to have to have a talk about this with the Headmaster, I will NOT have you endangering the students!"  
A small shiver ran down my spine at the sound of that name. I thought I had recognized that voice, but my mind had assured me it was just my imagination. Now my cheeks flushed in anticipation of the embarrassing scene about to take place, and I stole a quick glance over my shoulder just in case I was still mistaken.  
Damn.  
I couldn't see the bastard around the divider walls that circled my cot, but by the movement I could guess where he was standing. I bit my lip in distress - God, but I didn't want him to see me this way! How mortifying!  
The click of heels approached again, this time followed by a clumping pair of shoes, and I turned over and shut my eyes pretending to sleep. The heels passed, along with a whispered "hush" to the sniffling boy that followed. The pair continued on through the infirmary until I heard a door shut quietly somewhere on the other side of the room. The sound should have relaxed me, but in truth it only made me more tense.  
What now?  
For a long moment there was silence, and I strained my ears to hear anything, half hoping to hear Sirius approach and half hoping he had left. How embarrassing to be caught in such a weak and feeble position - right in front of the person I wanted to impress! Wait a moment here, impress? What the fuck? Wasn't it the guy who had to impress the girl?  
I'm sure my stomach was beginning to develop an ulcer by the time I finally heard something - a something that wasn't very reassuring. "It was just a bit of harmless fun," the deep voice murmured, and I felt the words all the way down my spine. My, how I wanted to have some harmless fun right now!  
Oh yeah, harmless fun in a hospital gown, that's very glamorous Eevee.  
The footsteps were soft and slow, but I heard them coming closer. My heart sped with each foot fall - inside I was a tossed salad of emotion; did I want him to see me like this? What if he laughed? What would he think of me? What kind of a guy went for a damsel in distress, anyway?  
A split second and another foot fall later, I made up my mind. Desperately I flung the blanket over my head and buried my face in the pillow, trying to act asleep though I knew I was far too stiff and breathing way too fast. Screw it - how perceptive could he be? Maybe if he saw a sleeping hospital patient, he'd just go away.  
Did I really want him to go away?  
Oh, shut up Eevee and make up your mind!  
The footsteps came to a curious halt, and I knew he was looking in the sectioned off area where my cot was. I imagined I could feel those midnight eyes sweeping over my form in interest, and subconsciously I held my breath. Any moment now those feet would turn around and head back the other direction - I mean, seriously, who would try to wake the casualty of a murderous thorn bush?  
Maybe I was too distracted by my own thoughts, but I swear I didn't hear anything; one moment I was playing dead, the next there was a warm hand resting on my hip. No, not warm, burning - a burning hand. I could feel it through the sheet and through the thin night shirt Mrs. Pomphrey had dressed me in. It sent shutters of awareness through my body, spreading from my hips to my stomach and lower. My breathing hitched.  
Dammit - he knew! I knew he knew, but how I have no idea. There was a soft, utterly sexy chuckle from somewhere above me.  
"It couldn't be a student," the voice muttered, "they're kept in separate rooms. I'd guess a teacher, maybe, except I don't know anyone with curves like these."  
I began to tremble as the hand smoothly slid from my hip down the dip of my waist and to my ribs. "Well, I suppose you could be a teacher on second thought," he whispered, "but that hair could only belong to a goddess."  
Wait a moment - hair? It was only then that I realized my traitorous red locks were sticking up from the top of my blanket, as dark as blood against the white sheets. Aw shit.  
As though reading my mind, Sirius pulled the blanket from me and leaned over, trapping me between his arms. I rolled to my back and stared up, going into shock from suddenly being in very close quarters to an extremely tempting mouth. The mouth in question was pulled into a taunting, sensual grin.  
"Hiding, Ms. Jones?"  
I grimaced slightly, our noses almost touching. God, but that face - why was this man single???  
"Boo," I muttered lamely.  
Then he smiled fully, an expression that should have made those dark peepers crinkle in amusement. . . yet strangely enough they stayed empty and blank. It was an unnerving expression, and for a moment I couldn't help but wonder just what the hell it meant.  
I opened my mouth with the idea to say something wonderfully sarcastic and redeeming, but the chance was stolen. By his tongue.  
Our lips didn't touch, they hovered millimeters from each other as his tongue dipped into my mouth to stroke my own. I felt my breathing stop out of sheer, pleasurable shock, and a hot flush lit my cheeks. I tried to stay calm as that tongue dipped in and out, tracing over my teeth, then touching my lips and sending tingles through me that shocked my very core. Heat. Beautiful heat - a licking flame in my stomach. My legs. My hips, my chest, my arms, my throat.  
I couldn't help it - my arm raised and wrapped around his neck, and I pulled those lips down to my own. "Feed me," I murmured into his mouth as I pressed myself against him, opening to him, begging him to kiss me the way he had that morning.  
But he didn't.  
He kept it cordial and polite, dipping his tongue in to greet my own sweetly, then withdrawing again to fuse our lips together. He seemed to know what I wanted and was determined not to give it.  
In astonishment I heard a frustrated groan wrestle from the back of my throat, and his lips smiled around mine. Gently he broke away, hovering not an inch above me, no sound between us except the panting of my own breath. No, that was too short! I needed more! My whole being was trembling, the cast on my hand making it heavy and hard to hold up. With a sigh I tried to pull him back down, but he resisted, and I frowned. A blush crept up my cheeks. Dear God, what if he was just playing? What if none of this was real and he was about to tell me he was taken already, or married, or gay, or. . . or. . . dammit, I knew this was too good to be true!  
"Sh, slow down," he whispered against my lips, and a hand ran through my hair. "I want to enjoy you."  
Oh God, those words, the sound of his voice. . . the feather of his breath. . . this was the perfect man!  
"By the Ministry! What ARE you two DOING!?"  
Sirius and I separated immediately with a startled yelp. Black positioned himself a few feet away while I laid back, propped up by pillows. I tried to look wide eyed and innocent, and in amusement I found the same expression on Black's face. If it wasn't for our swollen lips and sexed hair, it would have looked damned convincing.  
Pomphrey stared at us from the opening between the dividers, her mouth agape and a pink flush in her cheeks. I couldn't tell if the flush was caused by anger or embarrassment - but by her stance I'm sure outrage had something to do with it. Her feet were set apart and one hand was firmly on her hip, the other clasping the hand of. . . of a rather chubby boy who'd probably just hit puberty. The boy had mousy brown hair and a rather dopey looking face - I could tell one of these days he'd have jowls to rival a blood hound's.  
By the look on the boy's face, I'm sure he was caught somewhere between avid interest and fainting.  
"Why - why - Mr. Black! Ms. Jones!" Pomphrey stuttered again. Was it just me, or this time was there a slight touch of amusement in her voice? Now my face was beginning to burn, and a sheepish smile fought its way across my lips. Sirius glanced at me, and I saw an echoing smirk around his own mouth. "You two should know that this is - is no place for such. . . such behavior!"  
"Eh, sorry," I muttered, then stopped to clear my throat of left over arousal and a bit of spit (which didn't happen to belong to me, mind you.) "It won't happen again. . . ?"  
"I can assure you it won't!" The lady barked. "Neville dear, why don't you sit down on that cot over there while I take down these dividers. Obviously Ms. Jones is NOT to be trusted alone!"  
My eyes narrowed. "Hey, that's not very fair!"  
I would have gone farther, except one look from the aging lady made my mouth snap shut. What was it with old people and those "shut your face" looks? I made a note of finding out how to do that.  
Sirius sort of stood around as Madame Pomphrey began stripping down the green dividers. I couldn't say he looked awkward, but I'd definitely agree that he was out of place. Most of Pomphrey's wrath seemed to be focused on me, almost as though she had expected more of me, or for some reason didn't want to scold Sirius. The latter made no sense at all, but the former worried me greatly - if they had come to expect such behavior from Black, did that mean that I was just his next victim? Looking at his gorgeous everything, I wouldn't be surprised.  
God, don't let it be true!  
Finally Pomphrey was finished, and she turned to give us another firm glare. "Now, Ms. Jones, stay put in bed for the rest of this hour and I MIGHT decide to let you leave in time for your next class! You're lucky you have a full hour of lunch to recover! As for you, Neville. . . you just relax until I get back." Then the nurse whirled on Sirius, her nose in the air. "Mr. Black, YOU are coming with ME." With that she grabbed Sirius by the collar of his shirt and dragged him forcefully towards the exit. The man only had a moment to turn partially and wave, then he was gone and out the door, his complaints ringing down the halls.  
I sat in bed for a moment, my heart still racing, my mind a whirl of pink fluffy thoughts. Wow, had I really just been caught macking with a gorgeous guy? This was better than high school! With a cheery grin I turned to the sorrowful young man next to me and felt my spirits dampen immediately. God, just looking at him made me want to commit suicide. His arm was in a thick sling and there were tear streaks down his cheeks - his eyes were puffy and red. Just to make matters worse, he was staring at me with an expression of blank fascination and trepidation.  
"So what are you in for?" I asked to break the ice.  
The kid stared at me for a moment. "Um. . . got bit by a chimera," he muttered, then looked down and blush.  
I sighed. "Ouch," I murmured. "Yeah, I got attacked by a killer rose bush."  
"The one in Greenhouse 2?"  
I had been gazing down at my blanket, but looked up to see the boy staring at me thoughtfully. "Yeah, that one," I nodded.  
The boy hesitantly shifted. "I got my hand stuck in there once too," he confided.  
"But aren't you a wizard?" I blinked - wait a moment here, so I wasn't the first idiot to get attacked by a plant? "Aren't you magic people supposed to be immune to that kind of stuff?"  
The boy sighed. "Yeah, most of them are. . . but I don't know, sometimes I just feel really out of place. Sorta like I don't belong. I'm not very good at all this magic business."  
I felt a warm tingle somewhere deep in my heart, and a rather soft smile lit my features. I gazed at the boy and knew that I was seeing a kindred spirit. "Me too," I whispered. The boy met my eyes and grinned a little shyly. I grinned back.  
After a moment I swung my legs out of bed and stretched out my hand to the kid - might as well make the best of my time here, right? "I'm Eevee," I said.  
"Neville," he took my hand.  
"Nice to meet you, Neville."  
I'm sure this will be the start of a beautiful relationship.  
  
**** Please review! I'll try to get the next chapter up, but it's not even written yet and I don't know when I'll get the time. The reviews really do help. Thanks so much! 


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